The Way of the Dogs (The Colter Saga Book 2)

by Joel Baker

  James noted the women and children showed interest in both he and Charley. The men ignored them entirely.

  They came to a stop outside a large cabin with many windows and a large front door. They dismounted just as a distinguished looking man burst from the cabin and came directly up to Charley Oaks.

  “Did you bring Flower back?” He asked, obviously not pleased with Charley.

  “Waya,” Charley said. “It wasn’t my fault and you know it. Flower does pretty much what she wants and there is nothing you or I can do about it.”

  “Waya looked away from Charley and studied James for a few moments before turning back to Charley.

  “The woman is a curse, no doubt about it,” Waya said now smiling. “Who is this white man you brought into my village?”

  “Remember when I was young?” Charley asked. “I was taken in by white people far from here and given shelter. This is the son of one of those white people. His name is James Colter.”

  “James Colter,” Waya said. “You are welcome here as long as you are with Charley Oaks. Why are you here?”

  “I’ve heard white people are no longer welcomed on the Cherokee land,” James said. “I have also heard of a union between Cherokee and Gypsy.”

  “How does it concern you, James Colter?” Waya asked.

  “I am a hunter,” James said. “Hunters have always gone where they must. Since joining with the Gypsies, we are told we cannot enter onto Cherokee land.”

  “What do you hunt?” Waya asked.

  “I hunt men,” James said.

  “Are you hunting now?” Waya asked.

  “I hunt Mason Lowery,” James said.

  Waya studied James for a few more moments. He seemed to be weighing his different options, and James was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.

  “I have decided,” Waya said smiling. “This James Colter may travel freely anywhere in my district. Now come inside and we will have some lunch. I will have to get it for you myself since someone has stolen my woman.”

  Waya, James, and Charley enter the cabin. It was larger than it appeared from the outside. It was still necessary for both Waya and James to duck their heads at the doorway.

  Once everyone was seated, Charley stood to speak. He described the body James found and the ‘the hanging man’ position of the corpse when it had been crucified.

  “That is some creepy Gypsy voodoo, no doubt about it,” Waya said. “I do not believe all this tarot mumbo jumbo, but many do. Luther would not let the Gypsies do something like this on my land.”

  “Is this Luther the leader of the Gypsies?” James asked.

  “Yes, for some years now,” Waya said. “He is called King of the Gypsies. It is too strong of a word. Gypsies are as hard to control as Cherokees, or white people for that matter. But it’s what they call him.”

  Charley and I don’t think it was Gypsies,” James said. “We think it was someone trying to cause problems between the Cherokee and the Gypsies.”

  “Like who?” Charley asked.

  “I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” James said. “Listen, Waya, I was wondering if the Gypsies kept any prisoners after the fighting a year or so ago?”

  “They did for a while,” Waya said. “But they let them all go after a month or so. The prisoners ate too much and didn’t do enough work.”

  “So you think they are all back home by now?” James asked.

  “Yes,” Waya said. “Or they could be with their ancestors. Why?”

  “I met some people who were missing husbands and fathers lost over here about a year ago,” James said. “I think they still held out some hope they might be coming home.”

  “It’s sad,” Waya said. “But it is what happens to people who go off to die on strangers land.”

  “Waya,” James said. “Do you think we should send someone to warn this Luther someone might be trying to cause trouble between the Cherokees and Gypsies?”

  He watched Waya walk around his cabin in deep in thought. Finally he stopped and turned back to James.

  “I have decided,” Waya said. “Charley Oaks will go to meet with this Luther. He will warn this King of the Gypsies, and stay for three days to make sure others are made aware by this king.”

  James and Charley said their goodbyes and rode back to Charley’s cabin. It was dark by the time they returned.

  They talked late into the evening about James heading north to pick up the trail of the guy with the pack horse and Charley’s pending visit to the Gypsies.

  “You seem a little down in the dumps tonight Charley,” James said. “Why the long face?”

  “If you go somewhere, I would like to ride with you,” Charley said. “Those Gypsies are spooky. Their women are beautiful. They have those dancing eyes and a way about them. But the men are lazy and seem to fight all the time.”

  “You’ll be back within two weeks,” James said. “Are you worried about leaving Flower all alone?”

  “If I know Waya,” Charley said. “Flower will be in his cabin before I’m half way there.”

  Chapter 6

  After a big breakfast, James said his goodbyes to Charley and Flower. He didn’t think he would be seeing much of Flower in the future. He then headed back towards the border of the Cherokee land. He hoped to pick up the trail of the guy with the pack horse.

  James was pretty sure of the direction he was headed. The trail he followed was at one time called highway seventy five. It ran almost due north and south and before the Go Back. It was a major road filled with cars and trucks.

  Other than the occasional rusting pile of metal, not much was left of the road. Many wagons and horses had made the rutted pathway running through the brush and pines. Some crumbling chunks of concrete lay strewn on the ground. The weeds were winning this particular battle.

  James was about eighty miles from Knoxville when he first felt he was being followed. It was a creepy feeling he got as the hairs on his neck stood up. He slowed his horse to a standstill and looked around for any sign. Finally he saw him. Samson sat looking at him from the brush along the side the road.

  “What took you so long?” James said, noticing Sam no longer limped or favored his foot.

  The dog trotted out into the road and sat looking up. James dismounted and knelt by Sam. He examined the injured foot closely and except for some pink areas, the pads of the paw looked normal. He reached out to pat Sam on the head and the dog ducked his head and moved several feet away.

  It was a trait of the dogs James thought most sad. For whatever reason, all the dogs of Haven showed no outward signs of affection. Even as a puppy, Sam would not wag his tail or lick your hand.

  None of the dogs played other than to wrestle and fight with each other. Yet James knew Sam to be loyal and would fight to the death to protect him. It was just the way of the dogs.

  Towards dark and still thirty miles from Knoxville, James came around a curve in the road and spotted a sizable building with corrals and a huge front porch.

  Although unpainted, it appeared to be newly constructed, from freshly cut lumber no less. He noticed there were three horses in the paddock, but none of them were pack horses. He told Sam to go hunt supper as he tied his horse to the hitching post.

  It took James a minute or so for his eyes to adjust to the darkened room. A large bar ran almost the full length of the far wall. Several long tables with attached benches filled most of the room.

  Two men and a woman sat at one of the tables and seemed deep in conversation. They were far enough away James couldn’t tell what they were saying.

  The men looked rather plain and as if they just come out of the fields. James smelled food and walked to the bar. The bartender was cleaning glasses and looked James up and down.

  “Something you want mister?” the bartender asked.

  “Food and a room, if you got one,” James said.

  “How are you paying?” the bartender asked. “I don’t take Jesus dollars either.”
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  “What’s a Jesus dollar?” James asked.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” the bartender asked. “There’s some preacher up in Virginia who’s set up a government of sorts. They call him Pastor John.”

  “Really?” James asked.

  “They’ve been printing their own money,” the bartender said. “It’s got a picture of Jesus on the front. There’s a bunch of holy rollers living up there too. He’s got enough for a militia. He calls it the People’s army.” “What’s he going to do with an army?” James asked.

  “I don’t know,” the bartender said. But he’s got big plans if you ask me, and none of it good.”

  “I never heard of them,” James said. “As far as paying for supper and a room, I’ve got shotgun shells.”

  “What gauge?” the bartender asked.

  “Two and three quarter, twelve gauge lead shot reloads,” James said.

  “Six of those will get you dinner and a room,” the bartender said. For nine shells, I’ll throw in my wife.”

  “No,” James said. “Just the meal and a room will be fine.”

  James laid the shells on the bar and started to turn away.

  “One more thing,” James said. “Did you see a guy come through here today with an empty pack horse in tow? He may have been moving fast.”

  “About four hours ago,” the bartender said. “A spooky looking guy came through here trailing a pack horse. A real strange one, he was. If I had to guess I’d say he was from Pastor John’s group. A real bible thumper if you ask me. White hair, pink scary eyes… he had to be an albino. He ordered a glass of water, drank it, and lit out in a hurry.”

  “Did he say what direction he was headed?” James asked.

  “He didn’t,” the bartender said. “I suspect he’s headed for Christiansburg, Virginia more than likely. It’s where Pastor John set up his People’s Temple. He’s got most of his militia set up there too. It’s about two hundred miles or so from where you’re standing. If you’re headed that way make sure you steer clear of the Cherokee lands along the way. They’ll lift your hair if they get a chance.”

  James thanked the bartender and found a seat at the table. Supper was plain, but good, and the room a slight improvement over sleeping outside on the ground.

  James was up early the next morning and changed from his buckskins into his work jeans and shirt. He headed for Virginia just after first light. Sam joined up with him a few miles down the trail.

  ****

  The first sign of Pastor John and the People’s Temple was an impressive barricade stretched across the road outside Christiansburg. At first it appeared as if no one manned the barricade, but finally a head, then two, popped up over the top with rifles pointed at James’s chest. One wore a hat the other didn’t. Sam disappeared into the brush along the road.

  “Stay where you’re at,” the man with the hat said. “What business you got in Christiansburg?”

  “I heard there’s a lot happening with Pastor John and the People’s temple,” James said. “The temple’s in Christiansburg, isn’t it?”

  “Yes it is,” the man said. “Where’s the big dog that was with you a minute ago?”

  “He probably went to pee or something,” James said. “He’s kind of shy and afraid of people in general.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a dog to me,” the man said. “You got anything of value on you?”

  “Not really,” James said. “I’m pretty handy with this rifle. I can hunt some.”

  “Pastor John says all are welcome,” the man said. “So you can come on in.”

  James rode past the barricade and started down the road.

  “Wait a minute!” the man called. “We’ll be looking in the pack you’re carrying before we let you go.”

  “Nothing in my pack worth dying for,” James said as he continued down the road.

  “We wouldn’t kill you,” the man called.

  “It wouldn’t be me doing the dying,” James called back as he continued down the road.

  The two men stood silent at the barricade and watched as James rode on. Samson returned after ten minutes and a half hour later James rode into Christiansburg Virginia.

  Chapter 7

  The sign at the town limits read: Welcome to the People’s City.

  The activity in the streets took James by surprise. He stopped and stared ahead. It looked like someone had kicked over a hornet’s nest of people. The frantic pace of everyone hurrying through the streets made Sam uneasy and he looked up at James.

  “Go Sam,” James whispered. “You can join me when I leave.”

  The dog headed off the road and away from the town. Within seconds he disappeared. James rode slowly down the main street avoiding pedestrians and wagons running every which way. Finally he stopped at what appeared to be a stable.

  A young man came out to meet James and took the reins of the horse.

  “Here sir, let me help you with your horse,” the young man said. “You’ll want to board him here? Probably want me to curry him down give him some oats and water?”

  The young man stood with the brim of his hat in each hand. A huge smile seemed plastered on his face.

  “Thank you,” James said. “That would be fine. How much is it to board my horse per day?”

  “We’ll worry about it after you talk to Pastor John,” the young man said. “Until then, I’ll make sure everything is just the way you want.”

  James wasn’t sure why, but this all struck him as just a little bit creepy. This kid was way too cheerful. Meeting Pastor John was beginning to sound a little creepy.

  “Is there a place to stay close by?” James asked.

  “Won’t you be staying in the barracks with the rest of the Peoples Militia?” the young man asked.

  “I’m not in the militia,” James said.

  “Oh, I thought since you were armed…,” the young man said. “Okay sir, never mind. Mrs. Lynch has a nice clean place a few buildings back from the direction you came. When you go see Pastor John you may want to leave your weapons behind. I just thought you should know.”

  “Thanks,” James said. “I’ll be at Mrs. Lynch’s if you need me.”

  ****

  After a short wait, the Pastor’s guards opened the door and let him into an expansive office area. Pastor John was much taller and older than James expected.

  His massive shock of gray hair was combed straight back. He appeared to be in his sixties with piercing blue eyes. His voice was deep and filled the room. He took three large steps from his desk and pumped James arm enthusiastically.

  “Welcome to the People’s Temple,” Pastor John said. “I understand your name is James Colter. Any kin to the Colter group down by Chattanooga?”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pastor,” James said. “My grandpa was Mark Colter and we do live down in the area of Chattanooga.”

  “Your Grandpa ran a big lumber operation didn’t he?” Pastor John asked. “In fact your kin run about everything down there as far as I can tell.”

  James suddenly felt like he was being cross examined for some reason. It seemed as if the Pastor was interested in a lot more than just saving souls. He knew he better tread carefully.

  “Well Sir,” James said. “We used to have a number of businesses, but not so much anymore. We still work hard, but we’re having a tough time of it like everyone else.”

  Pastor John walked behind his enormous desk and sat down pointing to a chair in front of the desk for his visitor. James was glad he wore his ordinary work clothes and had left his weapons in his room at the boarding house. Still, Pastor John studied James leaning far back in his chair.

  “We heard you got some sort of engine and electric lights,” Pastor John said. “Is there any truth to the rumor Mr. Colter?”

  “All that fuss over one little flickering light bulb,” James said. “Pastor John, it really is hardly worth the mention.”

  “Are you telling me the God’s hones
t truth, Mr. Colter?” Pastor John asked.

  “Close enough, Pastor, James said. “Please call me James.”

  “Did you know James was one of the Apostles?” Pastor John asked. “He and his brother John were among the first to become Disciples of Christ. Had a terrible temper they say. It may be why he was finally beheaded.”

  James felt like he was a rabbit looking at a hawk on a tree limb.

  “What brings you to Christiansburg, James?” Pastor John asked.

  “Well, for a long time now I’d heard good things about the People’s Temple,” James said. “I heard anyone, regardless of how much or how little he has, is welcome. I got to say, the barricade welcome did throw me off a bit.”

  “Yes, I don’t doubt it,” Pastor John said. “The barricades were put up after the Gypsy War a year or so ago. We started getting all kinds of trouble makers in here when things went bad for the Pentecostals.”

  “That was over a year ago,” James said. “Why are they still up?”

  “The barricade gives the men something to do until…oh, never mind.” Pastor John said.

  The pastor stared at the ceiling before continuing.

  “Now that you’re here James, what can we do for you?” Pastor John asked. “You’ve come a long way. You must have something in mind.”

  “To tell the truth Pastor John,” James said. “I’m kind of between things right now. At loose ends so to speak. I guess I’m looking for something to do. I want to help other folks. I’m real handy with weapons and a good hunter. I thought I might be of use to you.”

  Something was definitely wrong here. James felt like he was at a creepy carnival and he was about to be invited into the back tent by the head clown.

  “God has a use for everyone, James,” Pastor John said. “But first, what do you know about the People’s Temple?”

  “I know you look out for people who don’t have much,” James said. “There’s nothing down south for me. I was hoping you could use my skills. I heard you have a militia. I don’t know what that’s all about.”