by Lou Bradshaw
I backed off and contemplated. This could be done, but I wasn’t sure how. I doubted if I could scale that wall without a rope, and I couldn’t use a rope without something to tie it to. If I could get a piece of stout cord wood, there was a chance that I could toss it through the hole and get it hung up on something. If it held strong enough, I could climb out of here, but if it didn’t… if it slipped while I was on that wall…?
Pushing that thought out of my mind, I went back to the cabin to see if I could find just the right piece of wood that might work. If I could snag it real tight and get up that rope in a hurry, I could secure it and come back after my stuff. Snagging that wood real tight was a mighty big if.
I poked around the wood pile until I found one that had a few poorly trimmed branches on it. I figured they would give a little more snag… or maybe I was just hoping. Well if a fella is left with nothing but hope and risk, then he oughta make that hope at least as big as the risk.
I went back into my getaway hole and followed the wall back to that old ones place to get my rope tied up real well, and then it was back to my escape hole. The sun was gettin’ low; I could tell by the angle it was coming in. I took a couple of tentative tosses without success. I wondered how many throws I’d have to make just to hit that hole, let alone to get that firewood caught. For the time being, I wasn’t sure my hope was up to my degree of risk.
I finally hit the hole, but it didn’t go all the way out and fell back down at the slightest tug. The sun was going down, and I wasn’t crazy about climbing up to a hole that I couldn’t see. I’d be climbing blind. I went back to where my stuff was stored in that cove.
Chapter 15
If they came in the night, which I doubted, they’d never find that hidden cutout in the logs, so I’d be pretty safe till morning. I planned to douse my torch and sit in the dark, when I felt another breeze. It wasn’t blowing from the outside… it was damp and coming from the inside. It was cool air. If it was coming from outside, it would be a damned site warmer.
I let the breeze direct me to where it was going. It seemed to be leading right to a pile of rubble where some long ago monstrous slab of rock had dropped down creating a crack between two walls. Holding the torch low, I could see the flame pull right to that rubble.
I had no idea how long I worked at that pile and the sand beneath it before I could clear enough to see what was behind it. A corner of that slab had cracked and the broken piece was wedged into the sand and dirt. With my hand, I was able to reach back into a gap where a part had broken and been smashed to dust and gravel when that rock came down.
At that point, it was only about a foot thick, but I could tell that it was a wedge shaped piece. It seemed to get thicker as I felt farther away from the broken piece. That crack may just be my lucky break. There was nothing to do but start digging.
I still had plenty of torches, so I wasn’t too worried about using them up working. I spent at least an hour or more trying to scoop out the dirt and sand under that broken piece. It was at least four feet high and a little longer at the base with a crooked crack forming a ragged triangle. I figured it would weigh at least six or eight hundred pounds. It was much too heavy to lift out of there, and I didn’t have any timbers at my disposal to use for leverage, so the only thing I could do was to dig under it and get it tipping, and that’s what I was trying to do.
If I’d had a sledge, I wouldn’t have any doubts about busting that thing into a bunch of manageable pieces. I may as well have been hoping for wings to fly out of that other hole. I tried using one of the burnt torch poles, but it broke right off.
After some more digging, I tried again to get it to move, and I was able to get a bit of movement. After some heavy breathing and some sweat, I couldn’t get it to move any farther. Looking around, I realized that I had two rifles, my own and one that I’d taken from Angelina’s tormentors. If I used the poorest of them as a pry bar, I’d still have the better one. That’s when I saw the torch poles standing next to the rifles.
One pole wasn’t strong enough, but four of them lashed together just might do it. I quickly lashed them up and put my creation to work. They fit, snugly, into the hole, and I wasn’t in the least bit confident about my contraption, but it was better than ruining a perfectly good rifle.
The make shift pry bar stuck out of that hole at about waist high, and angled up to about chest high. I grabbed a hold of it and crouched down to where I could get my shoulder under it. With my hands close to my shoulder, and the bundled poles on top of it, I started to lift. I had to hold my back stiff and use the large leg muscles as my main source of power.
The way that broken piece was situated, it would come forward and fall face down, if it moved at all. There wasn’t much under it to hold it. I had the feeling that if I could get it moving, it would topple. The strain was about as much as I can ever remember. I’ve done some pushing and shoving in my time, but the lifting I was doing right then was a real vein popper. Sweat was rolling down my face and back. I was soaked and there wasn’t a thing happening.
I was sure that I was within a few seconds of blowing the top of my head right out, when that rock moved. It only moved a few inches, but that was enough to give me a new purchase. I was able to move my pry bar down about a half a foot.
A few deep breaths and a good pull from my canteen, and I was ready to give it another try. I went through the whole procedure again, only my angle was a little different. I gave one mighty muscle searing lift on that bundle of sticks and the whole corner started moving. It moved slowly at first, and then it gained speed. It was falling free, so I got my feet out of the way…and none too soon. That thing just kept on tipping until in landed flat in the sand with a “Whoomp!”
When it fell, it kicked up dirt sand and gravel from below and flung the whole mess in my face. When the dust settled, and I could see again, I saw a huge granite triangle with what looked like a foot and a half long tooth in the rear that had been buried in the ground. That pointy spike of stone was what had kept that thing from toppling over. It was also what had thrown all that debris in my face.
I was anxious to get into that opening and see if it led to the outside. If it was an escape hole, then I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to climb out of that other hole. So I took a couple of candles and crawled in there.
There was more rubble to get out of the way but the passage was soon open and I could stand. It was pretty easy going for forty or fifty feet until I came to a place where the roof got lower and the walls got closer. I was going uphill along what must have been an ancient water course.
Then I came to what was once a cave mouth… filled with rock. I knew right away that there was no getting out of that hole. From what I could see, it looked like half of Marble Mountain had come down over that hole. It probably happened the same time that slab came down at the other end of the passage. Well, I tried.
What I reckoned to be morning by the way my stomach was growling finally came. I’d gotten a few hours of fitful sleep, but I’d had short nights before and I was used to it. I gathered my things and moved out to the end of the line. That being my escape hole, if I could ever get up to it. I took all my torches and candles, my food, a full canteen, and two fully loaded rifles.
After what I thought was about the right distance, I saw the light from the hole. It was faint, but it was definitely a light and it was morning. I put my load down and stood looking at that impossibly small target that I needed to hit. Without any great expectations, I took a couple of tosses… and a couple more with about the same amount of results as I expected.
Sitting back on my haunches, I looked up at that brightening hole and gave the whole business a good deal of thought. When a person is trying to concentrate, a person’s mind will always stray off the trail and get lost in other thoughts. I found myself back on Pa’s forty acres on the side of that Tennessee mountain. I found myself hunting rabbits with a sling…. A sling.
I remembered being able
to fetch a rabbit pretty slick with a stone. If I could get that piece of cord wood twirling around like a stone in a sling, I might just have a better chance of hitting the mark. My first and second try missed the hole, the third one did too, but the fourth one went through without even touching the sides.
Now came the tricky part. I needed to catch it on something. On the left side of the hole, the rocks were layered with gaps between where one layer sat on another. I didn’t know how solid they were, but at this point I didn’t have much choice.
I took the rope and started walking to my left and kind of jerking it as I went. When I had that piece of wood positioned at the far left edge of the opening, I held that rope as high and as far left as I could, and I gave it a real jerk. The rope slid in between a couple of those layers and the chunk of wood slammed against the outside of the rocks.
I tied the rope off on a fat upward pointing rock formation; it was one of those rocks that seems to be growing toward the roof. There were plenty of them around and a good number of those trying to meet up with them coming down from the top. I picked up my rifle and a handful of cartridges, and I headed back to the cabin, I took two torches and a candle with me. A torch was good for a one way trip, and the candle was just in case I’d made a poor one. Although, I’d made the trip enough to be able to follow the walls, if need be.
When I reached the plugged up hole in my back wall, I eased the cut log pieces out and listened. I listened for several minutes before I ventured out and into the room. Everything was as I had left it the day before. Poking around in the fire place I found some half charred pieces of wood, which I used as kindling. I needed a little coffee and some bacon, and I meant to have it before the shooting started… if there was to be any shooting.
Now, I really had no doubt that there would be some bullets flying, within the next few hours. While breakfast was cooking, I went out to the corral and made sure my horse had feed and water. Then I left the gate open so that he could leave if he’d a mind to.
I figured that bunch would just take the horse if they were able to get me or ran me into my cave… I’d sure hate it if they left that horse penned up to die of starvation or thirst. He was a pretty good animal, and he deserved better than that.
After breakfast, I sat back and waited. Waiting wasn’t something I was an expert at, but I didn’t want to be caught away from the cabin when they came. If I was out in the open, I’d be sure enough ready for the buzzards and coyotes. Now, I may not be an expert at waiting, but that don’t mean I don’t do it well. I’ve seen times when to move meant to die, and I ain’t dead yet.
The sun had been up for several hours when I heard the first sounds from down on the slope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell me that I had company coming. They were making work of it coming up through the trees instead of the path that I used. I guess they planned to spread out and surround me. They could do all the surrounding they wanted to, but the only way into the cabin was through the front door, and it was barred. Of course it wouldn’t be much of a task to cut through those leather hinges. But they’d play hell getting close enough to cut them.
I could hear them moving around down below. They were spreading out, just as I thought they would. No one showed for a while, they just rustled around crawling here and there looking for cover and firing positions. I had the shutters closed on one window and open on the other.
“You in the cabin!” a voice called out. “Save yourself a lot of grief and walk out that front door.”
I didn’t answer. I figured to annoy them as much as possible… you never want to get into a fight when you’re mad. Get over the rage and then go after ‘em with a vengeance.
“Mountain man.” That fella yelled again. “If we have to come in there and flush you out, we’re not goin’ to be too gentle, when we get our hands on you.” I was still silent.
“This is Frank Daveys… and I’ve got a dozen men out here wanting to see you dead. So make it easy on yourself and we’ll make it quick.”
I figured it was time to let them chew on a bitter root a little so I yelled out, “Can’t say I recognize the name, but Frankie boy you better check your sums. You had twelve men, and I sent five of them to hell… so that leaves you with seven.”
That brought out the artillery. They must have put thirty or forty bullets in the log walls of the cabin. Some of them splattered on the back wall, but most hit around the windows and door.
“If that’s the way you want it, mountain man, that’s the way it’s goin’ to be… If need be, we’ll just burn you out.”
“That’s fine, Frankie boy. Of course, there might be some difficulty getting close enough, unless you got someone who can throw a torch fifty feet without exposing himself.” I called back to them. As soon as I’d thrown down the challenge, I slid to the shuttered window. From there, through the rifle port, I put bullet so close to a boy peeking around a pine tree that it must have stung him with splinters. He jumped up and away from the tree like the tree was the problem… I drilled him.
“That leaves you with six, Frankie boy… Oh that’s right, you don’t know the difference between a dozen and seven…. Better go get you some more men, Frankie boy.” I taunted.
That brought about another round of wild and angry shots. That sort of thing went on the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. I’d pot shot anything that moved. It didn’t matter much to me that I didn’t hit anyone. I was sitting comfortable and they were laying in the rocks and weeds among the ants, spiders, and scorpions.
Just to keep the pot stirred up, I attached a piece of rawhide to one of the open shutters, and ran it over to the other window, where I could watch through the rifle port. Then I started pulling on the rawhide strip. I pulled it very slowly at first, and then I gave a little jerk and another. Sure enough, one of those rannies popped up like a Jack in the box. I pulled the trigger, but he popped up too quick and got him in the hip instead of the chest.
It wouldn’t kill him, but he ain’t gonna be much good for a while, so I called out, “Hey Frankie boy… five and a half.” Hooo Wheeee! Those bullets started flying. I just hunkered down and waited till they quit shooting.
“Hey Frankie boy,” I yelled, “you put any more lead in these walls, they’re gonna sink right into the ground.”
There wasn’t much more than an occasional shot fired for several hours. I figured they were waiting for dark to rush the place. I had other plans. Along about suppertime, I fixed up a bit of a fire and made some more coffee, then I sliced up the rest of the bacon and put it in the skillet. The breeze was coming off the mountain and blowing from me to them, and there ain’t nothing like the smell of frying bacon to get a stomach to grumbling.
“You fellas gettin’ hungry?” I called out. “Come on up to the house… there’s plenty to fill your bellies.” A couple of shots splatted into the back wall. I guess I kinda got ‘em riled up.
I finished off my supper by eating about half that bacon and some hard biscuits, which went well with that bacon grease. I had plenty of jerky in my pack, but I wasn’t likely to see any more bacon for a while, so I wrapped what was left in a cloth and stuck it in my pouch.
“Now, don’t you fellas wait too long to rush this place when the sun goes down because as soon as I can’t see you, you won’t be able to see me, and I might be right out there among you.” That would give them something to think about.
About an hour before sundown, I slipped back into the cave and closed up my hole. It took me no longer than a quarter hour to get to my escape hole. I slung my rifles and bow on my back. The quiver and everything else was lashed to my pack which was tied to the end of the rope.
The light was fading when I started up that wall, but I was determined to get out of there no matter what. I went up that wall using my feet and legs to move me up, while I used my hands on the taut rope to keep myself upright. I was actually walking up that wall.
If I should fall from here, even though it wouldn’t be v
ery far, I’d probably land on some of those rocks that were growing to the ceiling. It would be over in a few very painful seconds. I preferred not to think about it.
As I got closer to the hole, it became harder to use my feet and legs because of the angle. At first, I went to my knees for a short while and at the last, it was all hands and no place to put my feet on that smooth rounded surface. At one point, when I was getting very close, the piece of cord wood slipped and I dropped a few inches. I was showered with dirt and gravel, and I wasn’t sure my heart was beating. Then I realized that it was beating very very fast.
Taking a few deep breaths, I went on inch by inch by inch until I was close enough to reach out and grab one of those layered rocks. I knew that when I did it would be all I could do to pull myself up with one hand. There was no more rope… I was at the end. Now I had to make the switch to rocks, roots, or something else.
My left hand was my strongest but it was in the wrong place and position to grab anything. There was nothing to do but to do it, so I snaked out my right hand and took hold of a flat rock sticking out of the side of the entrance…. I held. Hanging on with all I had in me, I rolled to my right side and got my left hand free and on a rock above my right. Now, if I could only pull myself up enough to have my center of weight above the opening.
I wasn’t a very heavy man, but everything was dead weight, which is what I’d be if I slipped. I was on my back now, and I was straining for all I was worth. I came up a little. My knees were bent and I had my moccasins planted on the smooth surface trying to help. My head shoulders and chest were out. I took a tiny step up with my right foot and found a small indent. That was all I needed. One good shove and I was out.
My rifles would need some cleaning and I’m sure my bow had taken some abuse, but I could take care of all that. By the time I’d pulled my pack up through that opening, it was full dark.
