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.