by J. L. Salter
“Okay.” Annie hurried back to the cave opening to retrieve the cookies.
The three bedraggled spelunkers finally reached the opening where Annie held the cookie bag.
“What took ya?” Pop was not able to wipe the broad smile from his face.
Kelly didn’t have the words.
“What’s that on your arm?” The old man pointed.
“Huh?” Kelly viewed her arms, streaked with blood. “Mitch, turn around.”
He did, not knowing why.
Kelly sobbed at the sight of his shredded shirt and streaks of blood where the ceiling had torn into his back. “How on earth…?”
“When I heard the boulders crash down and y’all were still inside, I had to make good time going down the second stretch of low ceiling. Guess I kept scraping into it.”
Probably a hundred and fifty yards of scraping, Kelly guessed. “Let’s everybody get home. I need to wash out those cuts.”
“Oh, I promised a bandage for Annie’s leg.”
“I’ve got some in my glove box.” Roger eyed Annie’s cut. “They’ll do okay.”
“What happened to your hand?” Mitch noticed the way Roger held his left.
“That big old boulder smashed my knuckles.” Roger shrugged.
Pop cleared his throat loudly. “If somebody’ll give me a leg up, I’ll get started outta here.”
Roger and Mitch both helped him up. Kelly followed, helping Annie come up behind her. Roger and buddy went up next. Mitch climbed up last and untied Roger’s rope.
Once everybody was out, they all squinted in the late afternoon sun. They’d been in the cave over two hours. Most of their time had been expended just getting through the crashed down barricade.
Pop inspected them and whistled softly. “Looks like y’all had a spell in there.”
They checked each other thoroughly and then what they could see of themselves. All three had mud or slime, sweat, abrasions, cuts, bruises, and blood. Roger’s pants’ seat was soaked from the cave stream.
Kelly started laughing. “The rest of you look terrible!” Then she grabbed the moist towelettes from her pack and began distributing them.
Pop, walking stiffly, moved next to her. “You okay?”
She nodded. Then she noticed how he was holding his shoulder. “What happened to you?” Kelly got up on her toes and peered past his collar. A dark purple bruise was already setting in.
“Slipped on the dadgum rope.” They resumed walking slowly toward the vehicles. “Did ya find your wounded Reb’s hideout?”
“We found something.” Kelly unfolded the utility bill from her jeans pocket and handed it to him. “On the back.” The old man stopped. He flipped, then rotated the bill as she continued explaining. “Somebody carved D 16. Below it was this shape. Annie thinks it’s a horse. D 16 horse. Does it mean anything to you?”
Pop resumed walking and thought for a moment. Then he rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Cavalry had horses.”
Kelly’s eyes brightened. “Did the Confederates send cavalry to Dutton’s Hill?”
“Rebel brigade had a few small artillery pieces, some infantry…” Pop paused for the obvious Kentucky drama. “Plus a few regiments of cavalry.” Kelly nearly stumbled trying to keep up with him, climbing the sloping field, with her eyes fixed on him. A grin was forming on Pop’s weathered face.
“Know which regiments, by any chance?”
He shook his head but didn’t lose his smile. “My second cousin Don knows how ta find all them boys at Dutton Hill.”
They’d reached the two vehicles. To the others it was obvious Kelly and Pop were on to something. All listened intently.
“This feller and his buddy that died, both had Confederate Army horses. Might be your Reb scratched his unit number on the wall in there. Where’d ya find it?”
“Annie found it right below the bananas, on the wall down near the floor.”
Mitch joined the conversation. “Funny y’all never noticed it, when all you kids were playing in this cave.”
Pop thought for a moment. “Never knew ta look fer any writing. We only went back that far just so we could say we touched the banana bunch. Most everybody else just went as far as the little waterfall.” He paused. “Didn’t have no flashlights neither. Just candles and sometimes old oil lanterns.”
Kelly was thinking. That must be why the wounded Reb went so far back inside the cave, to the fourth chamber. He wanted to stay clear of the third chamber’s waterfall, which was obviously the area most often visited by kids living nearby.
“Did you ask Uncle Chet about the nine slashes?” Roger had moved closer too.
Kelly took the paper from Pop’s hand and pointed out her rendering of the slashes. “These were up slightly from the numerals and to the right a bit.”
“Feller living in a cave don’t know night from day, except by his pocket watch.” The old man squinted at the marks. “Might’ve been marking off days he’s down in there, trying ta figure when it might be safe ta make his run for the Tennessee border.”
Even though each was exhausted, all were grimy and sweaty, and some were injured… they still seemed reluctant to leave the spot. They continued to stand between the two vehicles, sipping water and eating cookies, and gazing back toward the direction of the cave opening, which was not actually visible from that point.
“Roger, if we hadn’t gotten through the barricade, could we have climbed up through the waterfall place?”
“No chance, Kelly. The opening’s not but a few inches wide. Anyhow, waterfall is an exaggeration. It’s ground water, gathering into a sinkhole up above, which finally found a hole to drop down into a break in the limestone. Over a bunch of eons, it carved out this cave. Isn’t that about it, Uncle Chet?”
“I guess.”
“And no way out the back of the cave?”
“Me and my brothers and all of our cousins explored this cave from one end ta the other.” Pop cleared his throat raggedly. “It does go clear through, but you’d have to be a skinny little kid or a critter no bigger than a coyote ta get out the other end. Your big Shepherd there—” he pointed to Buddy, “—probably couldn’t make it. Ain’t no back door for grown folks. Go in the front and come out the front.”
Roger glanced again over his shoulder. “Well, we had plenty of air and running water.”
“Yeah, but we gave up our cookies.” Kelly rolled her eyes.
“Okay, here’s a stupid question.” Mitch got everyone’s attention. “And I’m willing to ask it only because y’all already think people from somewhere besides Kentucky are idiots anyway. If your phone had worked, or if Kelly or me had brought ours, would y’all have called 9-1-1?”
“What could we tell the dispatcher? That we’re stuck in Tater Cave?” Roger scanned the fields and rolling hills for any distinctive landmark.
“Probably a hundred caves in Pulaski County,” Pop chimed in. “Most of them don’t show on maps. If ya had called them, those desk clerks would’ve spent five days just hunting for the right cave.”
Mitch sighed heavily. “Well, I sure could’ve used some extra muscle on my side of all the lifting and pulling.”
“Your muscles did just fine.” Kelly ran her hand lightly over his upper arm. Then, touching again his shredded shirt and the matted blood on his back, she remembered. “We’ve got to get this shirt off you so I can clean up your cuts.”
“No iodine,” Mitch said firmly.
With a broad smile, Roger reached out his right hand.
Mitch took his hand. They held their grip for a moment, though not competitively. Both wordlessly thanked the other for helping save the female so important to each. Then they released and turned toward different vehicles.
Kelly just nodded as she put her arm around Mitch’s belt-less waist.
****
After their caving ordeal, Kelly let Mitch stay the night at her cabin. But worried he might think it was an invitation of a different nature, she simply said, “Ju
st to deal with your cuts.”
Exhausted and hurting — and obviously not wanting a discussion which could become a disagreement — Mitch didn’t reply verbally, but his nod indicated he understood.
Kelly ran the bath water and found a large T-shirt Mitch could wear later. Then she carefully peeled the bloody, shredded garment off his back.
As Mitch sat in very warm water, Kelly tenderly washed the blood and grime from numerous cuts on his back and shoulders. Many were just deep scratches, but at least three places seemed like gashes. By the time she finished, the bath water had turned pink.
After Mitch got out of the tub, she patted his back dry. True to her word, Kelly did not use iodine, but she did pour and dab hydrogen peroxide, which foamed and audibly fizzed. On the three largest gashes, she placed butterfly bandages which lightly squeezed the sides of the wounds together.
He was a bit of a baby, Kelly thought, but Mitch was her baby… for now. Besides, he’d gashed his back rushing to reach her after the cave fell in. Kelly would have wanted to provide some TLC even if he hadn’t cut his back on the low cave ceiling. But if she crossed the line from wannabe nurse to lover, there could be no going back. So she didn’t.
But she wanted to.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sunday, May 20
Kelly had slept badly. Getting to her feet slowly, she stretched while yawning, then went to the sofa. It was empty. So where was Mitch? It was a small cabin and he wasn’t in the bathroom. Then she spotted his note next to the coffee maker. 8:57 — Ran home for clean clothes. Bringing back goodies from Sugar Hut. Call if you have favorite I don’t know about.
She checked the microwave clock — 9:14. Kelly retrieved the phone from her huge purse.
Mitch answered on the second ring.
“Honey bun.” Then Kelly flipped shut her phone and smiled to herself.
She buried her face in the pillow Mitch had slept on. It smelled like him — clean, from Kelly’s bath soap, with a hint of masculine perspiration, and a distinctive trace of hydrogen peroxide.
She gazed out her front windows to the east — cloudy. Might rain today, which everybody said they needed, since the area was way below normal for that time of year.
By the time Mitch arrived in fresh clothes with a sack full of pastry, Kelly’s coffee was ready. “I had to wait an extra five minutes for your honey bun, right out of the oven.”
“It’s the best time to eat them. Thanks.” Kelly peered into the bag. “What else have you got in there?”
“A few glazed, two cream-filled, one jelly, a huge cinnamon twist… uh, I can’t remember the rest.”
“You bought the place out!”
They sorted through the booty and divvied up their preferences. There would be plenty for a late morning snack and likely afternoon. Perra seemed extremely interested.
After the first round of pastry and two cups of coffee at the table, they went out to the porch and sat very close in the rockers. She knew Mitch’s wounds still burned considerably, which explained why he couldn’t lean back. The air smelled like rain, but no precipitation yet.
Kelly went inside and quickly returned with a few folders and a thin cushion for Mitch’s back. Then she sat in her own rocker and rested her ankles on top of Mitch’s. Her right forearm still hurt from her cut by the limestone, her left lay on the chair’s arm with her fingertips curled over its front edge.
Mitch reached over and placed his large hand on top of hers, as though he loved the feel of her.
Kelly’s free hand indicated the material on her lap. “Are you too mellow to think about my project?”
“Pretty much. But almost always willing to talk mysteries. Shoot.” Mitch sipped his coffee. “You still working on Aunt Belva’s abbreviated diary entries?”
She nodded. “Those entries — plus the letter Mary wrote, but didn’t mail, to her sister in Missouri — plus additional lore from Pop and his relatives. To make it easier to comprehend, I’ve pieced everything together like I was writing a newspaper article about what occurred. Tell me if you concur with my analysis.”
Mitch carefully scooted his rocker even closer to hers.
“But before I start reading my summary, I want to mention something about those little heart shapes Belva drew in several places.”
Mitch nodded. “I figure it denotes when they had sex.”
“You would. No, seriously. That is a possibility, of course, but I think it’s more likely the little heart shape was her way of signifying they had a really close connection, she felt extremely romantic, or it was her first stirrings of love. Something more than just physical coupling.”
“Why so quick to discount the physical possibility?”
“Her upbringing, the social norm at the time. Along those lines. Girls didn’t just jump in the sack with somebody they’d just met and fell in love with, not unless…”
“Unless what?” Mitch accidently sloshed coffee onto his clean shirt.
“Unless he was leaving!”
“Like all those guys during World War Two who scored right before they shipped out.” Mitch sat back too quickly, winced, and leaned forward again. “There was more sex for eighteen-year-old guys the night before they shipped out than there’d been in generations of boys that age just schlepping around their home towns.”
“Well, despite your colorful way of expressing it, I think it could be the key. I had wondered why all Belva’s little heart shapes were outlines in the black ink she used for her text. All except the one heart shape on April tenth, uh, two nights before H.H. left. It’s the only heart she filled in, and it’s red. Can’t tell if it was ink, dye, or some other kind of pigment… but it was definitely red in the original. Wow!” Her eyes widened. “Anyway, here’s how I’ve fleshed it out.”
Mitch waited expectantly as Kelly began reading out loud.
“The dark night of that Dutton Hill battle, two Confederates came to the Butler cabin because at least one was too badly wounded to travel any farther. Mr. and Mrs. Butler agreed to help but had to hide them and their horses carefully since Somerset was occupied by Yankees. Belva and her two sisters were dispossessed of their sleeping quarters in the upper loft. At some point later, Union soldiers looking for enemy stragglers came to their cabin.”
“Sounds good so far,” said Mitch.
Kelly resumed. “The Rebel with mortal wounds died that first night and was buried before dawn by William and his brother Levi somewhere among the trees on the hill. Belva’s mom burned the dead Confederate’s uniform but kept his buttons. One of Belva’s sisters kept the soldier’s belt buckle and possibly some other items.”
“Wonder why?” He drained his final sip of coffee.
“No telling. But either Mary or Belva scratched off some markings, probably CSA.”
Mitch casually rubbed the coffee stain on his shirt. “I’ve always heard most of the Confederate soldiers didn’t have complete uniforms, that many had mismatched clothing, and some even wore civvies.”
“Well, this was the cavalry, and horse soldiers were better equipped than infantry.”
Mitch smiled a funny smile but kept quiet.
Kelly continued. “As of April first, the sisters were still sleeping downstairs, so it probably took a while to clean the bloody mess upstairs. The surviving Reb, Hank H. or H. Hanks, intended to leave soon, so he must’ve seemed well enough to travel. If this heart shape actually has a meaning, something happened between Belva and H.H. in the barn loft. Remember, some family stories have him sleeping in the barn instead of the cellar. Whatever happened, even if innocent, her little brother caught them and tattled. Belva got a whipping from her father.”
“Do you reckon he whipped the wounded man also?”
“Probably not. After all, he was nearly eighty-five years old.”
“Not even if it was physical hanky-panky in the barn loft?” Mitch’s fingers wiggled in an attempt to illustrate his notion.
“Remember, the heart outline could me
an they just connected emotionally.”
“My money’s still on physical, but go ahead.”
Kelly continued. “Next day, William sent the Rebel packing, so Belva prepared some food for his travel. But, oddly, he didn’t take his horse — which comes out later — because Belva convinced him to hide in a nearby cave instead of risking capture on the road. On April third, which was Good Friday, notice that she repeated ‘hid wounded Reb’.”
“Did you say Reb singular, or Rebs plural?”
“Umm, check that copy of her original page.” She pointed toward those sheets.
“Singular reference here.” Mitch found a different spot and pointed. “But plural reference back on March thirtieth.”
“Why do you ask?” Kelly sat back again in the rocker.
“Could be nothing. But it seems odd for her to mention it again four days later.”
“Maybe it’s because she suggested H.H. go hide in the cave. Her family hid two soldiers on March thirtieth, but Belva hid one Confederate on April third.” Kelly frowned, though she had no particular sense about it. “On April sixth, Belva took a blanket to H.H. even though that visit would cause another whipping. There’s another heart symbol, in black outline, which I still think is an emotional connection.”
Mitch’s head shake signaled his disagreement.
“Possibly because of their interaction, or maybe due to the cave ceiling, Belva ripped her dress and got another whipping. Her father wanted information, probably about where the Reb was hiding, but Belva didn’t tell.”
“Gutsy broad and feisty too,” interjected Mitch. “How old was Belva at this point?”
“About sixteen then. But even though we’d call her a minor, it would have been marrying age in the 1860s.” Kelly had to find her place again. “In the confusing next entry, Belva’s father found out something — maybe the Reb’s hiding place or possibly something about their interaction. At any rate, William was furious and whipped Belva with his belt, which must have been for special circumstances.”
