The Gatherers – Chapter Twelve
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Charles grunted as he slammed against the snowy ground. His captor glared at him and then jammed his moccasin boot into his side and rolled him over. The action knocked the wind out of him and set his wounded head to spinning. He was fairly young still – in his mid-thirties – but Hawk was younger and stronger and hadn't just plummeted down the side of a hundred foot slope! Charles wrapped his arms around his chest as pain exploded in his ribs.
If they hadn't been broken before, they certainly were now!
The warrior loomed over him, knife in hand; his young face chiseled stone. Charles wondered briefly what that man he'd gone to live with had told him that made him hate white men so. It was a raw, unreasonable kind of hate; one no words of his could dispel.
He could see his death in the Indian's eyes.
Hawk glared at him and then turned and whistled low in his throat, causing two more warriors to appear. They were just as young, if not younger, than the man towering over him, and armed to the teeth. Hawk gestured in the direction Jonathan had gone and barked an order. The pair nodded and faded back into the leaves as if they had never been.
He sure hoped Chala got away and had gone to warn Jonathan.
Hawk shoved him again. "Kikta," he ordered. When Charles failed to respond, the warrior grabbed his arm and pulled upward. "Kikta!" he said again.
The farmer was pretty sure that translated to 'Get up!'
He just wasn't sure he could.
Charles nodded, hoping his captor would understand that meant he was doing his best. Sadly, his 'best' wasn't good enough – or fast enough. Hawk caught his other arm and hauled him to his feet. Then, with a shove, the warrior shouted, "Heta!"
He supposed that meant hawk wanted him to move.
The weary man stumbled forward. He kind of wondered why he was still alive but then, from what he knew of Indians and their enemies, Charles figured he might be better off dead than facing what was to come. From the way his ribs tore at his side, he was sure they were broken. If the walk was long, he doubted he would make it. Tears entered his eyes as he thought of his wife and child back at Sam Shelby's place. Who would have thought when he agreed to help Ben – and to take Winona home – that it would come to this? It seemed every time a man took a foot forward, someone came along to push him back two. At least this time there was no one to shoulder the blame but him.
Charles halted, panting, as Jonathan's words came back to him. 'Are there not times that you allow your child to fail, just so they can grow?'
Was that what was happening here? And who was the child? Him, or Hawk?
The farmer turned toward the irate warrior, drew a breath and spoke. "I'm…sorry for whatever my…people did to you," he said, breathing hard. "You have a…right to be angry. I'd be angry too if…someone hurt my family." Charles paused. He caught Hawk's gaze and then added, "But that wasn't me."
"Heta," Hawk said again, with a little less force, and pointed north.
The wounded man nodded and began to walk again.
Slowly.
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It was kind of funny traveling with Indians. They were like white people, only they weren't. One thing Laura liked – though there were times when she wasn't sure why, on account of it was hard – was that they treated her like she was a grown-up just like them. No slowing down, no worryin' about her climbing over fallen trees or slidin' sideways on loose rocks. No siree! They just kept on going without looking back.
Laura blew a breath out. With it went the lock of hair that was plaguing her eyes.
It might have been nice if they'd of looked back once in a while.
The little girl recognized where they were – sort of. The last time she'd come this way she'd been so busy makin' sure Mr. Shelby didn't fall over something that she didn't pay much attention to her surroundings. Still, she remembered some of the fallen trees – like that last one that had taken a hunk out of her knee – and was familiar with a couple of the creeks they'd passed through. Things had changed since that big storm Winona told them about. Parts of some of the hills had given way, and a big old wind had laid flat one whole stand of trees. While she liked to listen to the Indians talk among themselves, she felt kind of left out. When they came on those trees, Chayton let out a long string of syllables. 'Le'l osi' cee a ki, wato'ha l sna li'la ahi'yu!", he growled. It sounded like gibberish to her. When Winona heard it she laughed. The Indian woman laughed again when she asked her what he'd said.
"He complains like a small boy,' the Indian woman replied.
The four of them – Chayton, Mato, Winona and her – had been on the move for almost two days now. They'd passed over Avalanche and were on the way down the side of the ridge. Chayton had called them to a halt at the top. It didn't take an Indian to see that someone had gone over the side, and not all that long ago. Her heart had sunk to her toes when she saw that, and then looked down the long side of the cliff all the way to the ground.
The only thing that kept her from falling apart right there and then was the fact that she didn't see her pa laying at the bottom.
Soon after that they stopped for the night. Winona and her brothers fell asleep right away, but she couldn't because she couldn't keep her thoughts from spinning. On account of that, Laura got up from where she lay and started walking.
It was easier to think deep when you were walking.
Her pa was alive, but she didn't know where he was. There was no way he could have fallen all the way to the bottom of that ridge and not got hurt, but he wasn't layin' there. So, where was he? Did he get up on his own, or was there someone who helped him? She'd heard Chayton and Winona talkin' soft-like before they nodded off. One of them mentioned another Indian name: 'Chatan '. She was pretty sure that was Hawk, the bad Indian who'd pushed Pa off of Avalanche. Laura drew a sharp breath. Maybe it was Hawk who found her pa! Maybe he….
Tears filled her eyes.
"Remember little one, as our Indian friends say, the weakest step towards the top of the hill, towards the sunrise, towards hope is stronger than the fieriest storm."
Laura went stiff as a board. She whirled around like that Greek dervish, looking in every direction. The sun was just topping the rise, so it was pretty hard to see, but she didn't have to. She knew that voice!
"Jonathan!" she cried.
The light had been brilliant enough to blind her. It dimmed suddenly and she was able to see him. Jonathan was kneeling not ten feet away and he had his big old bear-hug arms open. She rushed into them and grabbed him as tight as she could.
"Now, now," the big man said, patting her on the back. "Now, now! None of that." He pushed her away a little and took a look at her. "What's this? Tears?"
"Oh, Jonathan, my pa…."
The burly man pressed a finger to her lips. "I know. Your pa is why I'm here." He stood up and looked down at her. "Do you trust me?"
Laura nodded. "With my life!"
Jonathan smiled. It was a sad sort of smile. "Not your life child, but another's." He held out a hand. "Now, come. We must hurry if we are to be in time."
She took a step before she thought to ask, "What about Chayton and Winona?"
"God is watching," he replied as his rough fingers gripped hers. "They will find their way."
"Are you taking me to my pa?"
Jonathan nodded solemnly. "Your pa is in terrible danger. If you come with me, you will be in terrible danger too. Are you willing to risk it?"
She gulped over her fear. "You think I can…save him?"
"I think you are brave enough to try."
"I won't try," she stated flatly. "I'll do it! And I'll run all the way if I have to!"
"There's my girl." Jonathan hesitated and then, without warning, gripped her under her arms and swung her up onto his shoulders.
"Hang on, child," he said. "There's no need to run. We're going to fly!"
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Charles staggered to a halt and dropped to his knees. The light was rising. A new day was dawning.
He wondered if it would be his last.
Hawk said little to nothing on their journey, at least with his lips. The tip of the knife the warrior pressed between his shoulder-blades spoke for him. The weary and wounded man hung his head for a moment and then looked up. He knew where he was. The spot was near to where he had fallen from Avalanche, only farther along the slope to the north. The warriors who had been with Hawk were already there, boasting to, and joking with four other young Indians who had joined them. A man and woman, also native, sat at their feet, their hands and feet bound. The man was gagged, but the woman was not. It was with a start that Charles recognized her as Winona. The man must be one of her brothers. The pair had looked too much alike for him to guess whether it was Mato or Chayton.
One of the men took hold of Winona's bound arms and drew her to her feet. He shoved her forward with unnecessary force.
"I can't say…I'm happy…to see you," Charles said in greeting.
"Nor I you," she replied. "They have left my lips free so I can speak Hawk's words to you." She glanced at her brother. "We came to help. They came upon us unawares." Tears welled in her dark eyes. "Mato is dead."
"I'm sorry."
The man who held Winona jerked her arm and spoke a few harsh words. Her jaw tightened. This time the tears fell.
"They're going to kill me," he said.
She nodded. "Mato chose to believe you, a white man, over Hawk. Hawk can not let this stand."
Charles sighed. "It was a misunderstanding. They thought I had done something to you." He looked at the young warrior, who had joined his men. "Hawk seems to think I did something to you."
"It is you who misunderstand," Winona countered softly. "Hawk does not think you did me harm. When he saw the bear claw, he believed I had chosen you – a white man – over him. He would have me for his own."
The farmer blinked. "What? But I have a wife – and children."
"He does not know this. Nor does he care." The Indian woman made a noise low in her throat. "He would slit their white throats as the soldiers did those of his red family."
"I thought you said they died of sickness?"
"That is what we were told by the white soldiers, and what the soldiers told other white men. First, there was killing and then, when they would not let us burn the dead, there was sickness." Her face darkened with anger. "Who would believe the Indian if he said different?"
"No one," he replied.
Winona glanced over her shoulder. Hawk was approaching. He had two men with him who carried long ropes and rough wooden poles.
"If you see her again, tell Caroline I love her." Charles choked. "Laura, too."
Winona's eyes lit with something – grief, hope, resignation – he wasn't sure. It didn't matter anyway, because Hawk shouted an order and she was dragged away before he could ask. She fought like a tiger, but was soon subdued, bound and gagged this time, and returned to her brother's side. Hawk waited until she was secured before turning to him. With a nod, the young warrior indicated the poles and ropes, which his men had quickly fashioned into a standing frame.
Hawk's lips curled and his white teeth showed in what the Devil would have called a smile. "Nake nula wauŋ welo, white man," he said.
Charles knew that one. It was a common expression among native peoples.
Today is a good day to die.
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It sure did seem like they could fly!
Jonathan told her to close her eyes and then he took off, runnin' fast as a pronghorn – and that was really fast! When he said she could open her eyes again, they were all the way back at Avalanche and running along the bottom of the ridge. After a while, the burly man stopped. He put her down and said to keep very still. He was going to scout ahead. Laura did what she was told, hugging the rock wall as Avanlanche's shadows shrank with the rising sun.
It felt like forever, waiting, even though the little girl was pretty sure no more than a few minutes had passed since her big friend left. Where was her pa? Where had Jonathan gone, and why couldn't she go with him? She didn't like to be alone. All of a sudden, something warm and wet pressed up against her leg startling her so she jumped. Laura looked down and was surprised to find a big old fat bunny rabbit looking up at her. Its pink nose twitched in that way a rabbit's does when it's thinkin' hard about something.
The little girl knelt and ran her fingers over its soft gray coat before she picked it up. Holding it about six inches away from her nose, she asked, "What are you doing out here all alone? Are you lost?"
The rabbit snorted and wriggled in her hands as if it wanted to escape.
"Oh, all right. I'll put you down."
The bunny hesitated only a second before bounding forward a few feet and then stopping to look back.
Laura frowned as it did it again.
"Do you want me to follow you?" she asked.
Its nose twitched again, the rabbit sneezed, and then leapt forward another five feet.
"You do!" Laura started to follow the bunny, but pulled up short. Jonathan told her to stay here, so what should she do? A little bird singing in a tree nearby gave her the answer. She remembered the white bird on the mountain and how it seemed to know the big burly man and do things for him. "Mr. Bunny, there's something I gotta know before I follow you. Did Jonathan send you?"
The bunny sneezed again, used its back foot to wipe its nose, and then hopped forward another ten feet.
"I bet he did," Laura said to herself. "I bet Jonathan sent that old rabbit and it's taking me to Pa!"
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Concealed in the trees nearby, Jonathan – the big burly man with grizzled hair and keen ice-blue eyes, sharp as the edge of a sword; the man who was not a man, but one of the few chosen to kneel at the foot of the throne of God, marveled at the faith of a child.
And said, Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Such was one of the marvels God's angels desired to look into.
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Charles breathing was labored. His shirt had been removed and he'd been strapped by the wrists and ankles to the frame made of wood and rope. Hawk had ordered a thong tied tightly around his neck to keep him from moving. Nearby sat a heated pot, full of a foul noxious brew. One by one the warriors dipped the tips of their arrows in it, filling their quivers. The whole thing had a sort of celebratory air –almost like a party.
He'd think twice the next time someone asked him to play pin the tail on the donkey!
The farmer had come close to blacking out several times. The position he was in put pressure on his broken ribs and the pain was agonizing. Still, he fought hard to remain awake. He'd dealt with enough natives to know their thinking was different from the white man's. What he did now might keep his family alive. Indians respected a show of strength and so that was what he was goin' to show them – strength.
Even if it killed him.
Hawk liked to taunt him, or at least to try. When he kept his mouth shut and gave no reply even when the young warrior jabbed his side and spit on him, he'd noticed a change in the others. Their laughter eased and they grew quiet, as if he'd won their respect. Part of their plan, he knew, was to leave him there, hangin' for hours, not knowing what or when they were gonna do something. The flames from the fire heating the pot cast weird shadows, making the young warriors look like the painted devils whites thought they were. But they weren't devils. They were human too. Hawk was a man like him – too like him for comfort. White soldiers had come to the reservation and killed his family, and he hadn't been able to stop them. Hawk had carried that guilt until it had eaten him up inside and turned him into something that little boy probably wouldn't recognize. Charles snorted. He wasn't all that different from the young warrior. He'd let Freddie's death eat at him and at his relationship with the Lord. He blamed himself for his son's death, just like he blamed himself for the hunting accident and what it had done to Laura.
And, if he was going to be completely honest, blamed God as well.
Charles lifted his head and looked at the young men, including Hawk, who had begun a wild dance around the fire. His death wouldn't bring the warrior's family back, or fill the hole in Hawk's heart their deaths had left. Nothing could do that but choosing to forgive the ones who had hurt him.
And to forgive himself.
The wounded man closed his eyes and quieted his heart. Charles thought for a moment about what he should say, and then he smiled. Then he spoke aloud; his voice loud and clear, with no sign of pain. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake." He drew a shallow breath and let the familiar words prepare him for what was to come. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of…death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." He smiled at that. "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over." As he spoke the last verse, a deep peace came over him. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
Charles opened his eyes to find Hawk standing directly in front of him. He met that black stare and nodded.
Yes, indeed, today was a good day to see his Heavenly father face to face.
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Laura spotted Jonathan standing, his bulky form blocking the view between a pair of vine-covered trees that framed him on either side. There was a strange light about him, almost like the sun was rising and he was standing right next to it. The bunny kept hopping and ended up at his feet. Without looking, the burly man reached down and lifted the rabbit into his arms. Laura was about to ask him what it was all about when she heard a familiar voice reciting scripture.
"Pa!" she declared.
Jonathan turned and met her startled gaze – and then stepped aside.
Laura couldn't believe her eyes! Pa looked awful! He was tied to somethin' like an old bed frame. His shirt was off and his tanned skin was shinin' with sweat. There were cuts and bruises all over him and what looked like blood at the edges of them. The brown curls she loved to finger dangled, soaked with sweat, in front of his face. But his face….
Pa was smiling. He was lookin' up to Heaven and smiling!
She tugged at Jonathan's hand. "Those men are gonna hurt my pa! You have to do something!"
The big man looked down at her. "There is nothing I can do, child. I am not allowed to interfere. Only to advise." He knelt so he was on her level. "You see, child. I'm afraid, it's up to you."
Laura swallowed hard as she looked at the Indians who were whooping and yelling and dancing around the fire. "Me?"
"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb," Jonathan said, his voice quiet; his tone, even, "and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together…." He took her chin in his fingers. "And a little child shall lead them. It is time, Laura. Go to him. Go to your Pa. Only you can set him free!"
It took every ounce of courage she had, but she did it. Laura stepped out from behind the trees, drew a deep breath, and started running.
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Charles was out of breath when he finished. His chin touched his chest and the world had started to go black. Then, he heard one of the Indians shout. Painfully, he raised his head and looked in their direction. It was candle-lighting, so it was hard to see, but the black and red paint on their faces made the whites of their eyes shine more brightly in the dark. They were wide with wonder.
He had no idea what it was all about until he heard a high, shrill, and very young voice cry out, "No! No! I won't let you hurt my Pa!"
The weary man shook his head, sending sweat flying. He must be hallucinating. That small form running toward him couldn't be Laura. She was twenty miles away, safe in her mother's arms at Sam Shelby's cabin. There was no way his precious child could be here.
Then he felt her trembling arms wrap around his middle and looked down to see her tear-stained face looking up at him. Her little lips opened to say, 'Pa. Oh, Pa' and instantly he was back there – as he knew she was – lying on the side of the hill by the stream with a bullet in his side.
Dyin', like he was now.
"Laura, no." He gasped. "Half-pint, run…."
Her face became stone. She shook her head. "No, sir," she said, gripping him tighter. "I'm sorry to disobey you, but I won't!"
Charles so wanted to hold her, to stroke her head and chase her tears away, but he couldn't. An image came to him unbidden: his Lord, Jesus, on the cross, watching Mary weep below. He had never thought how that had hurt the Savior too.
"Aya, huwe!" a strident voice shouted.
Charles looked up to find Hawk standing behind Laura. There was a knife in his hand. "No," he pleaded. "She's only a little girl. Let her go…"
Laura drew a deep breath, released her hold, and turned to face the angry young man. "Mister," she said, "I don't know what you think my Pa has done, but you're wrong. He's a good man. My pa never hurt any Indians and he never would. You gotta let him go!"
From behind Hawk came a quiet voice, urging the warrior to listen. It was only then Charles realized hawk had brought Winona with him to translate.
"Tell him to let Laura go!" Charles cried.
Laura turned. She met his anguished stare. "No, Pa. I'm here for a reason. You gotta let me do what I gotta do!"
Hawk turned to Winona and asked something. She nodded. "Hawk asks what it is you are here to do."
Laura steeled herself to meet the warrior's fierce gaze. "I came to save my Pa. You see, Mr. Hawk, about a year ago, I…shot Pa on accident. He almost died and if he had, well, it would have been my fault. I've been livin' with that a long time, and it's just about eaten me up. But now, I can save him." Charles held his breath as his child moved forward to take the warrior's hand. "Please, Mr. Hawk, you gotta let me save him. It's your choice. Please set him free."
All the while Winona was translating young Hawk's demeanor went from angry to incredulous to stricken. He raised the knife and took a step forward, but then let it drop to the ground and fell to his knees beside it and sobbed.
The moment was at once intensely real and surreal; like a waking dream.
After a moment, Hawk sucked in air. He placed a hand on the ground and pushed off it, rising to his feet. The war paint was gone, washed away by his tears. He was just a man now – a boy really – and Charles pitied him.
Hawk touched Laura's hair gently. "Até," he said.
Just before he walked away.
Charles was exhausted. It was all he could do to raise his head and follow the young warrior's progress. Hawk joined his painted warriors. He spoke a few words to them before he walked away and disappeared into the trees. The young men seemed at a loss. They looked his way and then back to where Hawk had gone. A moment later they tossed their arrows to the ground and followed their chief.
He, Laura, Winona, and her brother were all that remained.
"Cut him down," Laura pleaded. Oh, please, someone cut him down."
A knife flashed before Charle's eyes, he felt its sharp touch on his neck.
And knew no more.
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"Well then, it's good to have you back among the living."
Charles moaned and opened one eye, only to find himself nose to nose with Chala. For a second, he thought the rabbit had learned to talk, but then Jonathan gathered her in his arms and began to pet her head. The farmer laid there a moment, content – until the night's events slammed into him with the power of a runaway mill wheel.
"Laura!"
A hand clasped his. "I'm right here, Pa. I'm fine." Small fingers touched his face. "And you're fine too."
'Fine' might be taking it a little far.
Charles stifled a moan as he shifted, seeking a more comfortable position.
"I'm afraid those ribs are broken this time," Jonathan said. "I've bound them, but they are going to hurt like Hell." He grinned. "And I can assure you I know what that means!"
"Winona put some salve on your ribs before Jonathan wrapped them up. She said it would help them heal faster," Laura said.
The wounded man looked around as best he could. "Where's Winona?"
The burly man's grin grew. "The lovely lady is going home – and taking her brothers with her!"
"Brothers?" he asked, confused. Charles recalled Winona telling him Mato had died.
"It was like a miracle, Pa!" Laura exclaimed. "Mato came stumblin' into the camp right after you passed out. He wasn't dead after all!"
Miracle. Charles's gaze went to the man with grizzled hair sitting by his child, softly stroking the gray rabbit's back. It seemed they'd had more than their share of late.
"And Hawk?"
"Has a chance to become a better man, thanks to you and this little one here." Jonathan tapped Laura on the head. "Isn't she something?!"
Charles squeezed his daughter's hand. "Yes, she is. You saved me, Laura. If you hadn't managed to connect with Hawk…."
She nodded gravely. "He would have killed you. I guess…." She swallowed hard.
"Go on."
"I guess this makes up for me almost doin' the same thing."
Charles started to correct her – to say she was wrong, that it had been his fault he was shot – but he didn't. He remembered that moment; the one when he'd realized the Savior's pain for His child had been just as deep as the child's was for her Savior.
"Yes, it…does," he said, his voice faltering from both emotion and fatigue. "You're free now."
"And you, Charles?" Jonathan asked. "Are you free?"
He was. Tied to that rack and looking death in the eye, he had let it all go. In that moment he understood that life truly was a tapestry woven upside-down, where a man could only see the tangles and the knots, while God viewed it from above in all its glory – and that included the death of his son. From this day forward he would let the good Lord take him where He would.
Charles chuckled.
With a little kicking and screaming along the way, of course.
"Your Pa's tired, child. We should let him rest. We have a long road ahead of us."
The farmer's eyes had closed. They opened again. "Where are we going?"
Laura answered. "Back to Mr. Shelby's! Winona said she'd go to town and send Doctor Canby ahead of her so he could take care of you. And Pa, you want to hear the best news of all?"
He nodded, too tired for words.
"Jonathan is coming with us!"
oooooooooo
To be continued…..