Disclaimer:
I have tried to make sure my historical information is correct and I'd like to think I haven't offended any Native Americans peoples with the telling of this tale. I am 1/8th Cherokee and am proud of that heritage. I'm not trying to show any Native Americans in a bad light... that is not my intention.
Chapter Two
Two days later, Charles Gillen came upon one of the other wagons as it stood charred and smoldering. He immediately recognized the dark haired man who lay upon the ground, riddled with arrows.
"Hello, the camp. Is anyone there?" He called out as he pulled his wagon to a stop, set the brake and hopped down. He walked around the remains of the wagon, finding the bodies of Clarence Bennett and his wife Katherine. Scanning the area around the camp, he looked around for the two girls, Tessa and Chloe. Where were they? And what had become of Clarence's infant son? Had Indians stolen them all away? "Is anyone alive? Tessa? Chloe?"
Ione ran toward him and screamed from the shock. "NO!" She wailed as her eyes drank in the sight of her friend's murdered family.
"Get back to the wagon, girl!" Charles ordered.
"No, papa, I must find Tessa!" She retorted as she ran around the camp and into the stand of trees that stood nearby.
Charles charged after her, catching her just inside the tree line. "Fool girl, she's probably dead or she's been hauled away by the heathens. If that's the case, she's probably wishing she were dead. Now do as I told you and get back to the wagons." He dragged her back to the camp. "It's time to give these good people a decent burial."
"No, papa, I must find her," Ione wiggled free of his grasp and dashed back to the stand of trees. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand before hiking up the hem of her skirt, which would allow her to run like she hadn't run in years. Just as she made it to the trees again, she felt something slam into her and knew she had been caught. She whimpered pitifully as her body crashed to the ground and felt an oppressive weight pin her face down in the dirt. "Get off me!"
"Do as Pa told you to do and get back to the wagon," her younger brother growled in her ear.
"Get off me, John, now!" She bellowed as she flailed her legs about.
John, being a year younger and at least seventy-five pounds heavier and six inches taller than she, hauled her up from the ground as he stood up and shoved her back toward the wagons and into their mother's waiting arms.
Mariana hugged her tightly. "Come with me, sweet girl. Your pa and your brother are only doing what is best for you. Your friend may be dead."
"She can't be, mama." Ione brokenly cried as she let her mother lead her away from the massacre.
She watched as her father and John, along with Henry and Andrew, dug shallow graves and buried the broken remains of Clarence and Katherine Bennett. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Would she ever see her friend again? She curled up in a ball within the confines of her sleeping pallet in the wagon. She had already lost so much; add to it the apparent loss of her new found friend hurt even more.
Before she knew it, her father was calling for them to move their wagons out. He hoped to put a few miles between here before they made camp for the night. He manned the main wagon while John drove the other. He had fourteen-year-old Henry ride in the seat along side him with a loaded rifle while his other son, fifteen-year-old Andrew, manned the seat beside John.
A few hours passed and they came to a slow moving shallow river. Charles coaxed the team of oxen into the cool water and crossed it, waiting on the other bank for John to bring his across. He scouted the surrounding area and deemed it a good place to stop for the night. He directed them to a copse of cottonwoods that stood nearby, directing his family to set up camp. Each member went about their assigned chores before reconvening at the fire when Mariana called them to supper. She ladled heaping servings of stew into each of their bowls and served them cornbread that she'd baked in a cast iron skillet over a low fire.
Before bedtime, Charles brought out his fiddle while John accompanied him on the banjo and Henry on his harmonica. They played a merry tune. Ione and Samantha joined in, singing the words to the tune as Mariana clapped in time with the beat. Danger may lurk beyond their cheery fire, but within the confines of its glow all was right with the world.
O.O
The family traveled for three more days before coming upon a wagon with a broken wheel. Charles slowed up, approaching the wagon that sat off to the side of the rutted trail cautiously. He called out when he came within a few wagon lengths of it. He could make out a campfire and horses grazing on a grassy slope a few yards north of the wagon.
"Hello, the camp," he called out, easing his team closer. "Hello, anyone there?"