Ranger's Quest- The Beginning Page 3

  5

  Summersville

  The rain beat down on Archie as he regained consciousness. Hearing thunder rumbling far off in the distance, Archie sat up, looked around and realized he was still surrounded by trees. He wondered which way he should go when he noticed a stream about fifty yards away. His borrowed clothing was soaked and heavy. He walked to the stream and followed its bank downstream, assured it would eventually lead to civilization.

  The rain was continuous, and the sky showed nothing but a bland gray from one horizon to the other. It was impossible to get an idea of the time. Among the relentless patter of the raindrops hitting the trees and the ground, he thought he heard a faint clanging noise like metal striking metal. He stopped and listened to determine the direction of the rhythmic tolling. It was coming from the other side of the stream. He continued walking along the bank until he came to an area where a number of rocks provided a means to ford the stream. Once across, Archie began walking through the woods towards the sound. He knew he was headed in the right direction because the sound got louder as he walked. Then it stopped. Archie paused and listened. He waited, but it didn’t start again.

  He resumed his trek in the same direction hoping the sound would begin again. When it finally did, it was quite loud and echoed through the trees. Archie quickened his pace with the excitement of finding some form of civilization, but at the same time he was terrified of interacting with anyone from this time period. However, he knew he desperately needed help in the way of shelter, warmth and food. He smelled smoke. But it wasn’t the pleasant smell of food being cooked or logs burning in a fireplace; the smoke’s acidic smell left a bitter taste in his mouth. He followed the sound and the smoke through the forest until he came to a clearing. Through the trees he could see two structures, one at each end of the clearing. Smoke was pouring from the top of a stone chimney attached to the crude log structure closer to Archie, the larger of the two structures. Archie stopped and squatted down behind a tree to watch for any sign of another person.

  The clanging continued from inside this structure and went on for quite some time. Archie stayed close to the tree, unable to decide what to do. The steady rain had diminished to just intermittent drizzles, leaving him cold, wet and miserable. He trembled, unsure whether it was from being cold and wet, or from being afraid to make contact with another person. He sat on the wet ground, pulled the coat tightly closed, folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the tree.

  A clattering sound got Archie’s attention. He knelt and peered around the tree into the clearing. A young boy came around the corner of the smaller cabin leading a team of mules pulling a wagon and stopped them in front of the larger barn. Archie couldn’t see the front of the structure, but it sounded as if something was being loaded into the wagon. After a few minutes the young boy and a large man drove the wagon down a muddy road away from the clearing.

  Archie watched until the wagon rolled out of sight. Other than the drizzle there were no other sounds. The clearing seemed deserted. He had to get out of the weather. He made his way to the back edge of the log barn. He looked around the corner and listened. Nothing. Archie moved to the front and opened a single large wooden door just wide enough to slip inside.

  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. The only light came seeping in through the door and the cracks between the logs. Inside it was dry and warm. A large brick and stone fire pit was attached to the stone chimney. The hot coals inside the pit glowed orange and red and put out an incredible amount of heat. Archie moved closer to the fire pit. A crude hand-built table stood near the fire pit and a number of metal hand tools were strewn across the top. The heat from the fire was a welcome relief. Archie removed the wet Confederate uniform coat and laid it across the table as close to the fire as possible to dry.

  Archie’s black pants and black shoes were made of a synthetic material that reacted to his body and to external elements. The material repelled moisture and, sensing body temperature and humidity, would automatically loosen the fibers to allow heat to escape and cooling air to enter. Conversely, it could also constrict the fibers to keep heat in. His pants and shoes were completely dry. His shirt was damp, so he sat on the dirt floor and leaned against the warm bricks of the fire pit. It was quiet, dark and dry in the workshop. Archie was finally warm and comfortable. He knew that at some point he would have to leave and hoped his clothes would be dry before the owners returned. He didn’t plan on falling asleep, but he did. It was a welcome, deep, much needed sleep.

  “Look at his shoes, Pa.”

  Archie woke to a rough nudge to his foot. He opened his eyes and saw a young boy standing near his feet, the same boy he’d seen earlier with the mules and the wagon. Standing next to the boy was a very large man with coal black hair and a matching full beard that hid most of his face. His huge arms pointed a long-rifle at Archie’s chest. Archie gasped and scooted backwards along the fire pit.

  “You make a play at that pistol and it’ll be the last thing you’ll remember,” the large man said.

  Archie froze and stared wide-eyed at the duo. Fear gripped him. He hadn’t counted on interacting with anyone. He didn’t speak. He was afraid to open his mouth for fear of what he might say. He just sat still and stared.

  “What are you doing in my shop? You hurt?” asked the large man. Archie didn’t respond. “What’s your name?” Archie lowered his head and remained silent.

  “What’s wrong with him, Pa?” the young boy asked. He looked at Archie. “Can’t you talk?”

  The large man paused. “Don’t rightly know, son. I’ve seen boys like this before. They’re touched in the head. Too many battles.” The man pulled the rifle away and knelt on one knee to look closely at Archie. He picked up the Confederate jacket from the work table and looked through it. “He don’t look wounded.” He held the coat out for Archie to see. “The name inside this here jacket says ‘Turlock.’ Is that you? ‘C. Turlock’ - is that your name?”

  Archie looked up at the man. He’d had no idea there was a name stitched inside the coat. He glanced at the coat and saw the stitching, but didn’t answer.

  “What’s the ‘C’ for?” Again, Archie didn’t answer. “Is it Clem? Charlie? Chester? What?” The big man paused and then stood. “You understand anything I’m saying to you?” Archie looked at the man and finally nodded. The big man smiled. “That’s good. Least ya ain’t loco.” He set the coat back down and reached for Archie’s haversack. Archie quickly grabbed the strap and pulled the haversack to him and hugged it across his chest. He couldn’t let the man see the time belt; there would be no explanation for that.

  The man was startled by Archie’s sudden action. “Take it easy, boy. That’s okay. You just go ahead and hold on to that. I won’t touch it.” He backed away from Archie. “You hungry?” Archie looked at the man but didn’t answer. Apparently, he didn’t have to. The man turned to his son.

  “Jed, go tell your ma to fix up some biscuits and milk.”

  The young boy took off toward the other structure that Archie guessed was their home. The large man sat on the corner of the table. He folded his massive arms across his barrel chest. There was an awkward silence for a few moments.

  “My name’s Clemens. Clemens Anderson,” the big man began. “You can relax. We’re on the same side. At least for now, anyway. Folks on this side of the mountain ain’t got no use for this fightin’ and don’t care much about slaves. They’re talkin’ about splittin’ away from Virginia and making a brand-new state.” He shook his head and paused. “Don’t make no sense to me.” He looked at Archie as if inspecting a new bull. “You know, I don’t believe I ever saw a Johnny Reb with Sunday-go-to-meetin’ shoes on.”

  Archie looked at the twenty-third-century boots on his feet, hung his head and didn’t answer. Clemens stood and picked up a few tools from the table and began to put them away on shelves and hooks. “I come here a few years back from Williamsburg with my wife and son. T
hat there’s Jedidiah, my son.” He nodded toward the house. “I’m a good smithy. Been one my whole life. My pa was a blacksmith and taught me the way. I set up shop here in Summersville and got more business than I can handle. Folks from as far away as Charleston even come out to see me.”

  Archie had no idea what a blacksmith or a smithy was; it must have something to do with this workshop. The door opened and the boy walked in carrying a tin plate with three biscuits covered in honey and a tin cup containing fresh warm milk. Archie’s stomach began to cramp in anticipation of food.

  The boy handed the plate and cup to his father. Clemens walked to Archie and again knelt down on one knee and handed the plate to Archie. The aroma of the biscuits made Archie’s mouth water. Clemens set the cup of milk down on the ground next to Archie. Archie began to ravenously eat the biscuits. He took a large gulp of the warm milk and slightly gagged; he had never tasted fresh, unpasteurized warm milk before. The deep rich creamy texture took him by surprise. It took a few sips to get used to the flavor.

  The blacksmith returned to cleaning up his workshop while Archie ate. The young boy stood close by intently watching Archie. His close presence made Charlie uncomfortable.

  “Where ya from?”

  Archie gave a brief shrug of his shoulders and shook his head while he chewed a biscuit. “You don’t know where ya hail from?” the boy asked, surprised.

  “He’s from Alabama,” his father replied for Archie. “That’s an Alabama button on his jacket collar.” Archie looked at Clemens in confusion. Clemens stopped what he was doing and stared back at Archie. Each was locked in the other’s gaze for a moment. “You don’t remember anything, do ya, boy?”

  Archie looked down at his empty plate and shook his head. If these people believed he had amnesia or battle fatigue or something, it would be a good cover for him and he’d play along.

  Clemens collected the empty dishes, handed them to his son and said something that Archie couldn’t hear. The young boy left the barn and walked toward the house.

  “You can bunk here in this barn. You can stay here a spell; at least till you remember something. Coat says your name’s Turlock. I’ll be calling you Charlie ‘til you tell me different. You hear?”

  Archie nodded. Clemens picked up his rifle and held out his hand. “Now I’ll be havin’ that pistol and belt from you.” Archie unbuckled his holster belt and handed it to Clemens. “You can fix yourself up a place to sleep over against that wall there. The boy will bring you out some supper in a bit.” Clemens turned and walked to the workshop door and stopped. “I’ll wake you in the morning. I can use another man around here.”

  Archie sat on the ground in the workshop and watched Clemens walk across the clearing and into his home. It was beginning to get dark outside and the rain started again. Archie sat leaning against the fire pit, relishing its warmth and watching the darkness slowly engulf the area.

  A few moments later Jedidiah swung open the door, came in and set another tin plate and cup on the work table. “You like the dark?” Archie didn’t respond. The boy pulled a lantern off a shelf and brought it to the table. He picked up a piece of straw and stuck the end of it in the coals until it was ablaze. Archie watched him intently. This was his first lesson in operating a lantern.

  The boy pressed a small lever on the side of the lantern and the glass globe lifted just enough for him to stick the flaming straw under it to light the wick. He let go of the lever and the globe lowered around the lit wick. He turned a knob on the side of the lantern and it increased the flame and the amount of light. This old technology amazed Archie.

  “There’s a canvas on that pile of coal. You can cover yourself with it. If ya want.” Jedidiah backed to the open door. “G’nite, Charlie.” Then the boy closed the door, leaving Archie alone.

  Archie moved to the table. The plate held nothing but beans and two biscuits. The cup contained coffee. Archie wasted no time eating and drinking. The beans were bland with a tomato-based sauce but they were filling. The coffee was strong and hot, just the way he liked it. After he ate, he moved to a pile of loose straw against the back wall of the shop. He sat leaning against the wall remembering his day. He smiled.

  “Charlie Turlock?” he said aloud. Why not, he thought. Having a new identity would throw off the time-agents he knew would be coming after him. The amnesia ploy would explain away his ignorance. This may not be so bad after all. Archie wondered what Clemens meant by needing another man around here.

  6

  Charlie

  The sound of the workshop door opening startled Archie from sleep.

  “It’s morning. On your feet, Charlie. Time to start earning your keep.” Clemens carried a lantern into the workshop and set it on the work table.

  It took a moment for Archie to wake and get his bearings. He looked past the blacksmith into the clearing, where it was still dark. How could it be morning if the sun wasn’t up?

  “We got to get those coals going. Get on that bellows,” Clemens barked.

  Archie stumbled to his feet. Bellows? He took a few steps toward the fire pit and stopped to watch Jedidiah enter the workshop. The young boy moved slowly, shuffling his feet and rubbing his eyes. Jed raised a hand to greet Archie as he walked past him. Archie followed, hoping he would find out about a bellows.

  Jedidiah stepped on a stool next to the fire pit and stood alongside two wooden poles, one hanging above the other. Each pole was attached to a wooden plate, an attached sheet of canvas forming a bag between them. The lower pole and plate were stationary, the upper pole moveable. Archie watched the boy struggle to lift the upper pole, so he stepped in to help. As he lifted he heard the sound of air being drawn into the canvas bag. When Archie got the pole lifted as far as it would go, Jed began to push the pole back down. Archie again lent a hand and air rushed into the fire pit. Ashes flew as air streamed into the lower part of the pit. The acrid odor that Archie smelled in the forest the day before filled the barn. He let go of the pole.

  “We gotta keep doing this ’til those coals whiten.” Jedidiah began to struggle to lift the bellows handle. Archie looked at the pit and watched a small curl of smoke rise from deep inside the firebox. Fascinated by the contraption, he returned to help Jed work the bellows. Clemens threw some additional black rocks into the fire pit, covering the smoldering coals.

  Clemens saw Archie watching him. “You ever work a forge?” Archie turned his head away silently. Young Jedidiah looked up at him and Archie flashed a big smile. In the first hour of the day, Archie had learned about a bellows and a forge. He felt pleased with himself.

  An hour or so later the sunlight danced in between the few remaining storm clouds dotting the sky; the rain had stopped. Breakfast, served in the barn, was a bowl of boiled grains covered with milk and honey, and a cup of hot coffee. The blacksmith, Jedidiah, and Archie sat around the worktable eating in silence.

  Clemens would occasionally cast a puzzled look at Archie. “You remember anything … anything at all?” Archie shook his head, looked away, and took a sip of coffee. “How ’bout your kin? You remember anything about your family? Your childhood?”

  Archie didn’t reply. But the vision of the dead traveler at his station exploded in his mind. He grimaced as he pictured the bloody mass in the teleportation tube.

  The blacksmith noticed the look on Archie’s face. “What is it, son? What are you remembering?”

  The question brought Archie back to the present. He shook his head and took another spoonful of his mush and milk mixture. The blacksmith let the question drop.

  For the rest of the day Archie worked side-by-side with Jed and Clemens on a number of chores. Archie helped Clemens repair a wagon wheel. He watched the blacksmith straighten and re-harden a plow. Archie helped Jed repair some tools or completely make them anew. Archie was intrigued with the whole laborious process of metallurgy. He had never seen or even heard of anything like it. The trio shared lunch as they did breakfast. Archie was feeling more and more
comfortable around this family. With lunch over, Jed took the plates and cups back to the house.

  When Jed was out of the barn, Clemens leaned in closer to Archie. “Reb troops came through here about a year ago. Then again, a few months back. The bastards cleaned me out – both times. Took what livestock I had. All my hens. Even dug up what crops I had. Left me one ol’ milk cow and them two broke-back ol’ mules.” Clemens frowned, and his face reddened; Archie could see the anger in his eyes. He drew a deep sigh and leaned back. “After that second group came through, I decided I won’t plant anymore.” The blacksmith looked out in the clearing. “Hang the lot of ’em.”

  Archie listened intently, sorry for him and his family. A hard-working, honest man is struggling to scratch out a survival and in an instant it all gets taken from him. And there was nothing he could have done about it.

  “Only meat we get is what I can kill. Been too busy to do any huntin’. Besides, with the war about, you don’t want to be firing a rifle. Who knows what problems that could bring on? You do any huntin’, boy?”