The road soon became less traveled and then turned into a well -used wagon path. After a short while they came upon a fence of stone with woods on the right side of the road and fields to the left.
"We're close," Dagan told Caleb. "This is the same kind of fence we had at home." As they walked up to the yard a hound started barking and running toward the two men, scattering a group of chickens. As the dog approached, Dagan held out the back of his hand and after a few soothing whispers, the dog went back and lay under a huge oak tree.
Uncle Andre had a nice home and the kitchen seemed to be separated from the main house by a breezeway. As nice as the house was it was the barn that caught the visitors' eye. It was a huge two-story building that had been built in the Dutch fashion with open doors at both ends. The rear doors opening into a corral. A lean-to had been built off one side and under it a blacksmith's shop setup.
Uncle Andre was standing in the barn door with a harness over his shoulder. He had on a battered hat and had a long stem white clay pipe in one hand. Seeing Dagan, he rushed up to him and gave a great hug.
"My boy, my boy," he kept saying. "You've grown into a man." After the greeting Dagan introduced his
uncle to Caleb. After the introductions Andre looked at his nephew.
"I knew you were coming. There's been a raven in the oak there for three days now." Then with a somber look he asked, "Is there trouble, Dagan?"
"Aye, uncle, there's trouble."
Before the conversation could go any further a young woman cal ed from the house, "Papa! Come quickly Papa, I can see Kawliga and Jubal coming cross the pasture with a new colt."
Looking at Dagan, Andre said, "We'll talk later but right now we have to attend this colt." As Andre hurried off, Dagan turned to his friend,
"Want to see…" Dagan broke off his question. Caleb was staring at the young lady on the porch. "Caleb, Caleb?"
Finally looking at Dagan, Caleb said, "A goddess. A goddess in the wilderness."
After an evening meal of greens, potatoes, roast pork, biscuits and cherry pie, a sated group sat in the parlor. Dagan had been introduced to his cousins, Jubal and Katheryn. Kaytheryn, who went by the nickname Kitty, was Caleb's goddess. small talk fill ed the room.
Finding the new colt had been luck.
"The old mare always wonders off to have her foal," Andre had explained. "Why she can't have them in a clean stal in the barn is besides me."
"Papa," Kitty said, "Queenie had ten puppies this morning. Had them under the back porch steps."
"Puppies," Caleb commented, "I love puppies."
"Do you? Would you like to go see Queenie's puppies?" Kitty asked.
"If you don't mind?" Caleb directed this to Andre.
"No, go ahead," then to Kawliga Andre said, "Get a lanthorn." Andre's way of providing a chaperone, Dagan thought.
As the group left to see the puppies Andre turned to Dagan, "Kitty is starved for companionship since her mother died. We've al been lonely, but it's worse for Kitty. She was only four when the small pox came.
Since then her only contact with women folk was when she went to school and now on Sundays at church. I have two squaws to help out but they can't teach her about being a lady."
Getting up from his chair, Andre made his way to the fireplace mantle. He took down two pipes and a canister. " Virginia tobacco," he said as he offered a pipe to Dagan. "Best tobacco in the world." After lighting up, Andre looked solemnly at Dagan, "Jubal's got the gift. He doesn't full y understand it yet. But like with the new colt he knew exactly where to go. Kawliga recognized it first. He cal s Jubal, ’little colonneh', which
in Cherokee means little raven. Say's he'd be a big man in an Indian tribe, a shaman no less."
"How'd Kawliga come about?" Dagan asked.
"We came up on him in the woods one day while hunting. He was sick with fever and about gone. We took care of him and he's been with us since." Then while Kitty was still showing off Queenie's puppies Dagan told his uncle about Gabe. Andre listened without interrupting but nodding at different times.
Leaning on the mantle and puffing on their pipes the two men were silent for a few minutes, both in their own thoughts.
Andre broke the silence, "You'll be wanting Jubal and Kawliga to lead you to Port Royal to fetch Gabe, so let's turn in so you can get an early start." Walking out on the front porch before retiring, Dagan saw Jubal returning from the barn. He'd gone there to check on the colt as soon as the meal had ended so he'd not heard any of his father and Dagan's conversation.
As he climbed the stone steps to the porch he put out the lanthorn. He then looked at Dagan and said, "I've been yearning for a trip. I reckon you came at the right time. Maybe I can get rid of some of this wanderlust Pa fusses about." Then looking at Dagan, Jubal spoke again, "Kawliga says your colonneh. The raven. He says you know things." Without waiting for a reply Jubal went inside leaving Dagan alone with his thoughts.
Good-byes were said the next morning at first light.
Dagan did not miss the lingering look and holding hands
between Caleb and Kitty. Shouldering their packs, the group headed off with Kawliga in the lead. Andre had drawn a map of sorts. The group would travel overland to Hil sborough, North Carolina, following a well -used road. Then they'd head slightly west toward Salisbury where they'd obtain canoes and head southeast on the Yadkin River which runs into the Pee Dee River.
They'd travel the Pee Dee as far as they could to the South Carolina coast and then make their way south along the coast past Georgetown, then to Charlestown.
Once in Charlestown, they'd decide how to proceed on to Port Royal.
"Here's a letter to Francis Marion explaining you're only after Gabe and not snooping for the British. If trouble arises, show it. It might come in handy."
"What makes you think he will help even if we need him?" Caleb had asked.
"Well, we're both French Huguenots," Andre answered, "But more important he rides a horse I gave him. He'll help. If you run into trouble with the Colonials in South Carolina just ask for him."
The first part of the journey was easy. However, crossing the Cape Fear River had slowed down their journey. It had started to rain the night they'd passed through Hil sborough. The rain continued and by the time they'd got to the river the worn out and drenched men decided to rest before crossing the swol en river.
Kawliga made a lean-to out of pine limbs and brush.
This kept most of the rain off the companions and finally a fire was started using first pine cones to get a blaze going then adding semi dry wood dug from beneath leaves and pine straw.
The fire popped and crackled and at times there was more smoke than the group would have liked but it did make the little burrow more comfortable. Dagan fixed a pot of coffee and the men made a meal from cold fried chicken and biscuits. As Caleb ate, his mind was more on the cook than the food. Kitty had made the meal the night before they left. It amazed him she would occupy his thoughts so and wondered if she thought of him as well.
The group slowly made their way out of their little nest at sun up and after a quick breakfast they fastened together a make shift raft. Stripping, they piled their belongings on the raft and following Kawliga's example waded into the water. Each holding a rope fastened at the front and back corners of the raft, made their way across the swol en river.
Once on the other side, they dressed again in wet clothes as the rain had started again. Making their way overland, they were a miserable lot, with each man silent. Dagan continued to worry about Gabe, but did not fail to notice how Kawliga watched over and guided Jubal. His ’little shaman'. Dagan could sense Jubal had the "gift" and was glad someone was there to guide the boy, someone who understood.
For two days they marched from sunup to sundown and on the third day they made the little arm of the
Yadkin. The rain had been an off and on companion and was now back again.
A makeshift sawmil, a gristmil, and a trading post sat on the banks of the river. A stoop off the side of the sawmil was empty and offered some relief from the rain.
Setting down their packs, Dagan could see a rowdy looking group of men sitting on the porch of the trading post, which was just slightly up the hil. The group was a ragged lot. Most had on moccasins or were shoeless.
Their britches not much more than dirty tattered rags and their coats had gaping holes. What was visible of their shirts wasn't any better.
"A motley group is it not?" Caleb volunteered.
"Aye," Dagan replied. "I don't like the looks we're getting, but when the rain stops I'm going to see about getting some coffee. That's the only thing we're short on and it might be a long time before we find another trading post."
The sky had darkened with the heavy rain.
However, a bolt of lightening lit up the sky so that Dagan could see a sullen man with a battered hat and matted unkempt beard leaning on a porch post, staring at their group.
Kawliga had moved up besides Dagan. "He looking for trouble, maybe want packs," the Indian said. Dagan nodded. That had been his thoughts as well.
The two groups of men sat staring across the opening at each other. The store sat on higher ground and as the rain fel it made little rivers that made their way down the slope. Areas where the ground was low
fil ed up then the overflow ran on down past the sawmil into the river. The clouds, though dark, were moving fast and soon the thunder and lightening had moved on.
The rain slowed to a drizzle and then stopped.
Dagan had just finished a bowl of tobacco and was putting his pipe up when Caleb said, "Here they come." The fragrance of tobacco hung in the air but the musty odor of unwashed bodies became very strong as the group of men approached.
"There's five," Caleb whispered. "One's still on the porch."
"Probably the owner," Dagan replied. "Jubal!'
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to keep your musket ready, and stay slightly over to the side. Make sure we aren't flanked.
The rest of us will meet them head on. Follow my signal; we have to have surprise on our side. They'll think because we're outnumbered we'll try to talk." As the ragged group approached the sullen man said, "Ya'll strangers here about ain't you?"
"We are," Dagan replied.
"Well, we don't take ’ta strangers," the man said,
"Special y Britishers."
The man had closed to within two feet of Dagan by that time. Dagan's action was as swift as a striking snake.
Dagan drove the butt of his musket into the man's chest.
The force of the impact knocked the breath out of the man's lungs and he cried out as his knees buckled.
Before the man hit the ground Dagan brought the barrel
of his gun down across the man's head, feling him.
When Dagan struck his man, Caleb and Kawliga joined in the battle, Caleb fighting two men. One had been hit so hard his eyes refused to focus but his partner landed a punch that felt like a lightening bolt had struck Caleb, causing his jaw to pop and immediately ache.
One man had pull ed a knife and slashed at Caleb but Kawliga charged him and put the man down with his tomahawk. Caleb wobbled awkwardly for a moment before recovering his wits.
Dagan was facing another of the men who was breathing heavily now. The fight had already lasted longer than he would have thought. Dagan's foe had pull ed his blades and the two men circled, each looking for the advantage. Dagan's foot hit a slick muddy spot on the wet ground. Seeing his opponent slip the man slashed out, ripping Dagan's shirt and drawing blood.
With the man off balance, Dagan sent a crashing left to the man's face. Blood started to drip from the man's lips and nose as he struggled to keep his feet under him.
At that time, the man who Caleb had first encountered jumped Dagan from behind. Dagan lurched his body trying to loosen the man's grip. The two men struggled and finally they both hit the ground, roling, wrenching this way and that, before scrambling back on their feet. As Dagan gained his balance, he gave a sudden forward lunge flipping the man over his back and into the rushing river. The man's screams were heard as the swift current swept the man downstream.
Turning back to the melee, Caleb and Kawliga were
holding their own. With three of the rogues down, the numbers were now on Dagan and his group's side.
Kawliga and his opponent circled one another.
Kawliga's foe charged and the two hit the wet ground roling over. Kawliga was much smaller than his man but was quicker. When the man rol ed over, he pull ed a large wicked knife from his boot. Seeing the blade, Kawliga grabbed a hand full of mud and slung it into the man's face and eyes causing the man to spit and sputter.
As the man tried to wipe the mud from his eyes, Kawliga picked up a knife Dagan's foe had dropped and gave it a throw. The blade sunk into the man's throat. With a face full of mud and blood gushing from his neck, the man sunk to his knees then fel face first into the mud Kawliga had just used to his advantage.
Caleb had just landed a blow to his man. It was a vicious left hook. The force of the blow knocked the man backward onto his buttocks. The man felt paralyzed and limp. It suddenly dawned on him the fight was over. His friends were al down. Sitting in the muddy shall ows good sense prevailed. The exhausted man used the last of his strength to jump up and run.
Kawliga quickly picked up a musket to bring the man down but Dagan intervened.
"Let him go. Let's get up to the post and dry out and maybe get a hot meal."
Jubal had kept his attention on the man on the porch. The man had kept seated al during the fight. As the victors approached the trading post he stood up.
"Glad I am to see ’ em gone. Trash. Trash is what they be. Been here three days drinking up my corn squeezing and eating my food without paying a cent.
Yes sir, I'm glad to see ’ em gone. Supper's on the stove and if you've a mind, a warm bed for the night." The group was more than willing to accept the man's hospitality.