Spake As a Dragon Page 20

  “Run! You’ve got to be kidding. He’s standing in the only way out of here.”

  The bear is so massive he pushes the door from its hinges as he tries to get into the room. His huge body will not fit through the cabin entrance. Sam thought the cabin was small before, but now it seems no bigger than a matchbox. “Shoot it Luke, shoot it. It’s coming in.”

  Luke fires one round, nothing happens. Well, maybe something did – the bear get madder. “Shoot it again Luke!” Sam yells. To make the bear even madder Kentuck is outside raising cane, barking and biting at the bear’s hindquarters.

  “I’m trying Sam, but I have a shell jammed in this Spencer. It won’t fire.”

  The bear has now squeezed himself through the narrow door and is inside the room.

  Luke and Sam retreat to the farthest corner as Luke attempts to get his rifle to shoot. They are running out of time, the bear raises its head, which touches the ceiling. He is swinging his massive forearms, each tipped with razor sharp claws awaiting their chance to grab something to hold on to. Right now, odds are it appears it will be Luke and Sam. Luke cannot get his rifle un-jammed.

  The bear is so close they get a hint of its smell. It has a musky, pungent, urine smell. He opens his mouth wide and lets out a terrifying growl. “Shoot Luke! Shoot! We’re running out of time.”

  Luke yells back, “Sam we’re out of time. My Spencer won’t fire.”

  Running purely on adrenaline, Sam raises his Springfield musket, thrusts the barrel almost into the upper portion of the bear’s mouth just behind those fearsome teeth, which now are a mere few inches from the end of his rifle. He touches the trigger; the hammer falls on the primer cap, igniting the black power with a loud ‘kaboom,’ the bear growls again, lumbers forward and falls. The bullet went straight through the top of the bear’s mouth directly into it brain – killing it instantly. As the bear collapses, Luke and Sam have to hug the wall to keep the beast from falling right on top of them.

  “Well,” said Luke stepping over the dead mound of brown fur, “you wanted a bear now you’ve got you one. Only question now – what are we going to do with him?”

  MEAT APLENTY

  It is nearing nightfall on the fourth day since Luke and Sam left to go hunting. Catherine is worried; normally a two-day hunt is all the hunters can withstand out in the freezing sub-zero temperatures up on the mountain.

  Catherine hears a rifle shot high upon the mountain side an hour or so before she sees two men walking through the snow on snowshoes, leading three horses and a burro. She can see one of the ponies is a pinto, white with tan marking. In the snow, the pinto is almost invisible. All the animals were heavy laden and were having a hard time walking through the knee-deep snow. Catherine removes the shotgun from over the mantle and cautiously returns to the front door. These strangers are still too far away to recognize who they were, but, “Dang it,” that sure looks like Kentuck about fifty feet in front. No, it can’t be the boys, but again she looks, “That has to be Kentucky Lead, there has never been a dog that looks like him! What’s he doing with these fellows?”

  She knows it cannot be Luke and Sam they had not taken any horses – if fact they only have three horses and one burro, and she knows they are still in the barn.

  About a quarter of a mile out she hears two more rifle shots fired quickly in succession. That’s not a musket that is a repeater. Luke had his Spencer, she knew it was a repeating rifle, but she had never heard it fired and did not know its sound. Whoever they were they have done harm to Luke and Sam.

  By now Nate is coming from the barn heading toward the house. “Hurry Nate, hurry don’t let them catch you out in the open. Where’s your .44?”

  “Whoopee,” yells Nate trying to run through the deep snow. “Whoopee,” he hollers again.

  “Hush, Nate don’t let these strangers know anyone is home. Maybe they will just keep on going!”

  “Lands sake woman, we’d better hope they’s don’t keep on goin’”

  “What are you talking about Nate? Have you gone crazy?”

  “Shore nuff Miss Catherine, crazy to see them two fellers comin’, why that’s Luke and Mr. Sam. They’re done loaded down with fresh meat – I jest wonders who’s them hosses and that burro belongs to.”

  It took a while before Luke, Sam, the three horses and burro walked up to the hitching rail. All the animals were packed with fresh meat.

  “Lands sake,” said Nate, what in the world – that shore nuff ain’t deer meat. If’en it is, y’alls has done kilt the world’s biggest deer!”

  Sam couldn’t wait, “Bear! We have done killed us a bear! Whoopee,” he yelled.

  Catherine couldn’t wait either before she lit into Luke, “Luke I told you before you left not to mess with a bear. I tried to be as plain as I could speak and told you to leave the bears alone! Did I not? Didn’t I warn you they are dangerous and you’re lucky both of you are still alive.”

  “Amen to that! You sure did Catherine, but you forgot to tell us what we were supposed to do when the bear wouldn’t leave us alone.” He said, stepping from his saddle and began to tie his reins to the hitching post. As he turns toward the house, Catherine jumped into his arms... “I was so worried about you... I-I-I mean you and Sam.” She said hugging Luke’s neck and laying a big kiss square upon his lips.

  “Whoa Catherine, hold on a minute gal, Sam and I are fine. In fact, Sam is the ‘bear killer’ of this hunting party.” Sitting Catherine back down on the ground, “Come on, let’s all go inside and warm up, Sam and I are almost frozen. Let us get by the fire and pour some hot coffee down and we’ll tell you all about Rufus, the outlaws, the gold mine and the bear.”

  “What!” Exclaimed Catherine, “Rufus, outlaws, gold mines and bears y’all get inside I’ve got to hear this. Y’all would make up any tall tale to get out of being responsible for goin’ bear huntin”.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  THE PRINCE ALBERT SALOON

  On the west end of Main Street stands a solitary wooden building – The Prince Albert Saloon. Politicians could always be seen frequenting this saloon because of the adaptable social nature of their business. In this farming town of Albertville literacy was low, the bar provided the principal place for the exchange of information about employment and housing. A savvy politician could turn his access to resources into votes. Other customers were field hands, injured soldiers and of late, carpetbaggers and scalawags.

  It was said of the Scalawags, they were natively born Southerners, who say a Negro is just as good a person as they, and tells the truth when they say so, but in spite of their moral attitudes they are taking the loss of the War as an opportunity to enrich their own pockets. On the other hand, a carpetbagger is a corrupt Yankee coming south in order to profit from the instability and power vacuum that exists at this time.

  To the general population around this small north Alabama town, the carpetbaggers were the worst. As the South was now losing the war the carpetbaggers moved in to meddle in local politics, buy up plantations and farms at fire-sale prices, or steal them for back taxes. Their station in the south was generally to take advantage of Southerners at a sizable profit to their pocketbook.

  Sitting in the far back corner of the Prince Albert was the notorious Judge Roy Slate. Was he actually a judge, no one knew, and no one wanted to be the one to discover the truth. Judge Slade was an agent of the federal Freedman’s Bureau, which started operations to assist the vast numbers of recently emancipated slaves. Once he arrived in the south and saw how easy the picking was, helping emancipated slaves dropped far back on his list of things to accomplish. He was a harsh, disciplinarian who had control of the town’s mayor, sheriff and the Union’s small outpost of soldiers that had been stationed here to insure the peace.

  Looking toward the swinging saloon doors, he could hear the jingles of spurs walking down the wooden sidewalk. The sound of the spurs was easily recognizable, everyone in this small town knew the jingle, they belong to Captain S
imeon LaPree. LaPree pushes the double doors open and walks into the smoke filled room. He sees Judge Slate at a rear table. Walking to the rear table, he pulls out a chair and sits down. Motioning to the bar girl, “One more glass and a bottle of Red Eye.”

  “I’m good LaPree.”

  “These ain’t for you no how, thems for me.”

  Since arriving from up north a few months earlier, Judge Slade had relegated LaPree to number two in the pecking order. LaPree had been number three as Captain of the Home Guard. He took orders from the local Union outpost commander Major Hilliard; however, the Major left LaPree alone to do as he wished. Major Hilliard was un-expectantly transferred upon the arrival of the Judge. The Major was replaced by a young second lieutenant that took his orders directly from LaPree. High upon LaPree’s list was the confiscation of the Scarburg farm for himself. While the Major was in charge, the Scarburg farm seemed to be a settled deal for LaPree. Once the Judge found out the farm was in tax arrears he wanted it for himself. This did not sit too well with LaPree.

  “Tell me LaPree what is the status of the widow Scarburg’s place?”

  “Judge, she is not a widow. In fact, she just received a letter from her husband a couple of weeks after Christmas. As I have done tells you, she ain’t never got no mail from her men. I am controlling the mail office – letters that come in for her we hold, and letters she tries to post out we keep them too. As fer as being a widow, I guess she thinks she is one all right.”

  Picking up the bottle of Red Eye the judge pours LaPree another shot glass of whiskey. “Tell me again LaPree how much land does this woman own?”

  “Right at six-hundred and forty acres.”

  “What does the farm produce?”

  “Cotton Judge, up ‘till this here War they wuz running ‘bout a bale to the acre of cotton. Course all of it is not in farmland, a bunch is in trees. More is on the side of a bluff. I suppose they might have made fifteen or twenty bales of cotton each year.”

  “That’s a lot of cotton for her man to plow, sow, cultivate and harvest by himself. Did he own any slaves?”

  “Yes Sir, he had three, a woman, an old man and a boy. He also had his two oldest boys Luke and Matthew, but theys all in the Army now. He has two younger ones by the name of William and Isaac that I am goin’ to conscript jest as soon as I can lay my hands on’em. Last time I went calling on them I has to shoot all the slaves – they kind of got uppity, you understand.”

  “I don’t give a hoot about them slaves, they would be free now anyhow, but I want that farm. I had my people go down Hog Creek surveying the mountainsides. They found a nice saltpeter cave located on the Scarburg farm. Them ignorant hillbillies don’t know they are sitting on a fortune. Saltpeter is one of the main ingredients used in the making of gunpowder – this one mine could help the North win this War. All our northern supply of Saltpeter is about exhausted. I know the War can’t last much longer, but gunpowder will be needed until the last bullet is fired.

  “Say they are behind in their land taxes? How much does she owe?”

  LaPree pulls a paper from his pocket and reads, “It says here it was $25.00, but plus interest and late fees it is now a total of $32.26.”

  “All right, she can never come up with that kind of money. LaPree go down to the courthouse and get Judge Harbin to issue me a Tax Lien against the property for $52.26 – and have him give that Scarburg family the legal ninety-day Eviction Notice. You sure that husband and sons of hers might not show up and bail the farm out?”

  “Let me tell you Judge, my man in the post office ain’t let a letter addressed to her get through in two years, he hides’em quick as he gits’em. Same thang happens when she tries to post a letter to her husband or the boys. Naw, them men’s of hers ain’t gonna give us no trouble, you can count on it.”

  Chapter Thirty

  SPRING 1864

  It is the middle of March spring seems to be arriving early on the Scarburg farm in north Alabama. The past winter had not been too bad a few hard freezes followed by a couple of deep snowfalls, but all in all it wasn’t too terrible. It was time to get the garden plowed and early vegetables such as cabbage, onions and broccoli planted. Sary’s bullet wound to the shoulder had completely healed. Now she is up and about feeling good and helping as she can.

  “Sary,” asks Malinda, “what about corn? Is it too early to plant corn?”

  “Why Mizz Malinda, you knows you can’t plant tender things ‘til after Easter and I believes Easter Sunday comes about the last of March this year.”

  “Sary! How many times have I told you we do not use the name Easter we prefer the name Resurrection Sunday. You should not use the name Easter it is a sinful name.”

  “Yes’em, but I jest wish sometimes you’d tell why we shouldn’t use them words. You knows I don’t have no education and would like any sliver of things in the Bible you’s could teach me.”

  “Sary, as far the word ‘Easter’ all I can tell you Robert’s father forbid the use of the word.” Malinda went on to say using the word ‘Easter’ had been forbidden by grandfather Thomas Scarburg, but she believes it began with Thomas’ father John. Since John’s time, the use of the word Resurrection Sunday is to be used instead of Easter.

  “Now before you ask Sary, I’m not really sure why, it may have something to do with old John Scarburg being a Quaker, I’m not up on all their rules. I know the word ‘Easter’ is not mentioned in the Bible. I think Easter was the name of some kind of pagan Roman or Greek goddess, maybe that was it, I really just don’t know.”

  “Mizz Malinda you means to tell me not to use Easter on account of that John Scarburg’s religion? Well, I never!”

  “That’s an interesting thing Sary – from what I have been told John wasn’t very religious and neither was Grandfather Thomas, but Grandmother Scarburg told me Thomas would sometimes get up during the night and go to the House of the Lord. He would go at all hours of the day or night. She never knew why; however, another strange thing: she said he never attended the regular weekly meeting of the Quakers.”

  “He musta been real sinful if he prayed that much,” Sary said grinning.

  “John’s large family Bible was passed down to Thomas, and Thomas gave it to Robert. It’s lying on the table in the sitting room. Many of a time before this awful War I have seen Robert pouring over its pages. Robert is a good, righteous man, but I would not call him overly religious. He would flip through that big Bible as though he were looking for something, what I do not know?”

  “Maybe he was looking for Easter in them Bible pages.”

  “No, like I said before, the word ‘Easter’ is not in that big Bible Sary.”

  The following morning Sary and Malinda walk across the porch heading for the vegetable garden. “I think we might finish up with our planting today, what do you think?” Asks Malinda.

  “I doesn’t think so, look over yonder at our front gate. We got company comin’ I believe theys gonna slow down our gardening some.”

  Without looking, Malinda knew who were coming – Captain Simeon LaPree and his band of legal plunderers. The last time Malinda and LaPree met was the day he killed Uncle Jed and Jefferson and severely wounded Sary. Thankfully William and Isaac have taken the horse to Doc Crawford’s. For a couple of days she had been limping and they went to check with the Doc to see if something was wrong.

  Malinda and Sary stand in the garden watching the two men on horseback. One moves over to the large post that supports the main gate. From the distance, Malinda cannot see what he is doing. “Lands sake, Mizz Malinda it looks as if that there man in nailing something to yer gate post.

  Malinda looks again, yes Sary is correct. It does appear he is hammering a piece of paper to the post. He puts the hammer back into his saddlebag and the two men ride back in the direction of the town.

  Sary drops the hoe she was working with and starts for the front gate, “Come on Mizz Malinda lets done go see what them fellers were up too.”

&n
bsp; Nearing the gate Malinda can see the man has nailed some type of paper to the post – walking closer she can see the words Eviction Notice. She tears the sign from the post and reads it to Sary. “It says here that I have to come up with $52.26 in ninety days or the sheriff is going to throw us off this place. A month ago is was only $25.00.”

  Back at the house Malinda and Sary sit on the front porch. Malinda is worried, she doesn’t have the money and there is no way to get it. “Sary go find Steven for me, would you, please.”

  “Steven I want you to go down to Doc Crawford’s house. William and Isaac are down there now, tell William to see how much money the doctor will pay for Blaze – he has wanted her for a while.”

  “But Mama, you’re talking about Blaze!”

  “I know son, but I’m trying to find a way we can still live on this place,” she then explains to Steven the Eviction Notice on the fence post and the need for $52.26.

  DOC’S

  “Boys, your mare has a good case of stable canker. Leaving her in a wet stable too long causes it. Has that been the case?”

  “Yes sir,” answers William. “We have kept her in the barn since them Home Guards ride by so often. We’ve been afraid they would see her in the pasture and take her for the Army.”

  “I fully understand boys, but you must do a couple of things. First clean out her stable of all wet hay and replace it with some dry. Next go out in the fields and dig up some Pokeroots. You boys know what Poke looks like don’t you? Yeah, I thought so, take the roots and place them in a pan and boil those roots until the water is tainted with a yellowest-orange color. Put this liquid into a bucket and fill the bucket with cool water. Dip Blaze’s hooves into the liquid every few hours for a couple of days. She’ll be fine after that, just keep her stable dry!”