Eleanor Tatum

Joann leads the others on the unmarked trail through the swamps, keeping the sun behind her or over her right shoulder. Between them and Charleston lay miles of wild vegetation and wilder life; both man and animal.

Joann stopped and silently told them to remain quiet and still. A nearby conversation filtered through the thick hedges and untamed shrubbery.

“Enough boys, I’ve had it already. I’m taking the civilized route and heading back to Plainville for a train to Charleston. Good luck and keep up with them, especially that Earl of Problems. I want him and I’ve paid you for him. I’ll meet you in three days time, noon, on Trent Street at the Cotton Exchange. Good hunting.”

“We don’t take orders from you.”

“You do now. You boys look smart enough to please two bosses.” The pause triggered Catherine’s concern into fear. “Now, get moving. You don’t want to squander this double opportunity.”

Trevor shook his head at the overheard words. Catherine envisioned Edgar Crandfield’s snobby swagger toward the western turn in the road. Her deepening sympathy and her growing empathy had her arm going around Trevor’s waist. Together they waited silently. Hearing the dimming grumbles and complaints from the Charleston Three, Catherine, Trevor, Ross, and Joann waited a few extra minutes, trusting no one to not turn back and then they continued south on their wilderness journey.

Thankful that the sun was their only escort, they checked on her occasionally as she made her westerly descent. The hour before sunset, bread and cheese disappeared along with cold stream water in two shared tins. Catherine thought it was the best meal she had had in quite some time, because of the company.

Releasing exhausted sighs, they sat observing their hotel for the night. It had once been a sturdier structure, but it would serve. “Thank goodness, it’s empty,” Joann commented as she packed up their few leftovers.

“I’m not so sure. Listen,” Ross silently reached for his gun. He pointed to his knife stuck between his boot and sock. Trevor acknowledged the message with a nod. Rumblings and animals grunts came out of the shack as a territorial warning.

Crouching, Ross whispered one word, “Bear”. He signaled for Joann and Catherine to backup and hide, and for Trevor to stay behind him.

Catherine grabbed Joann’s shaking hand. They followed orders, a little bit. Trevor glared at them, but said nothing. The three watched Ross approach the one door. A Carolina black bear, who had shattered any growth charts, decided to protect his formal quarters. He lumbered out at a faster rate than Catherine thought possible and the giant bellowed his opinions of humans.

Catherine dropped her jaw in fear as the bear ran right at them. The giant’s sides rolled in waves as his dark brown fur propelled his mass forward. She admired in fright at his sharp teeth dripping in slobber and marveled at the strength of the bear’s sustained doleful cry. Ross was up on one knee, pointing his weapon and looked to be ready, until his gun jammed, but the mighty hulk fell anyway. At the same moment in fear and time, an unexpected and tremendously close gunshot explosion jolted the insides out of everyone.

Ross came off his knee to a careful stand, but had his knife pulled in case Trevor’s shot hadn’t completed the job. He stared down in the same shock felt by all and listened as the eerie silence of the death of one of God’s magnificent creatures permeated the swampy forest.

Enough! Until next time