Title: DOWNWIND FROM GLORY
Author: SaraJane (sarajane83@hotmail.com)

************************************************************************
July 2001



Disclaimer: Catherine Marshall's beautiful story of Christy is owned by the 
Marshall-LeSourd Family, L.L.C. We are in no way seeking profit or credit 
for her story. We are continuing the story of Christy for our own amusement 
only. Any additions in story line and characters were invented by the 
writers of the alt.tv.christy Round Robin and the Christy MailingList. The 
content of each story is the responsibility of the individual writer. The 
fanfic here is being posted as a service to the Christy mailing list, Pax 
Christy Forum and Alt.tv.christy News
Group.

Any additions in story line and characters were invented by the writer. Any 
similarities to other works of fan fiction are purely coincidental.

Downwind From Glory

Chapter One

At first glance over Gilley's Ridge, the mountains projected conspicuously 
over their surroundings uttering mournfully down into the inclines and 
valleys below. In one such hollow the sage green of the burr oak trees left 
a muted view over the vale of dense forest in this deep part of the cove. 
Mountain laurel no longer bore its glossy green leaves and umbrellas of 
rose-colored flowers. Summer had passed
and with it, a promise of new growth. Saplings grown from the moist rains of 
summer made their way through the rich black soil like tin soldiers playing 
as vanguards to these gentle giants. Wild lily of the valley, with their 
tiny white flowers encroached themselves around tree trunks and, an 
occasional grouping of grayish-brown mushrooms dotted mossy rocks and bases 
of foliage like little villages. Leaves were beginning to turn and in their 
dying would bring forth a burst of color no painter's palate could rival. 
Nature, itself, continued to observe and rule over this vast, heavenly 
expanse with little interruption save the light treading of the creature's 
moccasined feet leaving man-smell behind in his wake upon the fallen leaves 
and twigs scattered on the moist ground.

If one squinted their eyes through the Autumn's smoky mist this crisp, late 
afternoon, you might be able to just make out the man's tanned leather coat, 
fringes barely outlined along the sleeves, falling along vertically to a 
strong hand holding a bow perfectly still, while the other hand grasped a 
hand-crafted wooden arrow and pulled the string base poised to strike.

Steel-Gray eyes were intently fixed upon his prey. In the forest, the laws 
of nature dictated the outcomes and though life had to be taken to sustain 
another's life, it was never an act performed lightly by him; it was always 
performed with respect. As he positioned himself down on one knee, his head 
and back perfectly erect, the moment had come to release the arrow.

He heard a gun click behind him. His eyes opened wide with surprise for a 
moment, then cast quickly downward. He was thinking, and thinking fast. *Why 
didn't I hear them approaching? Why didn't I see the tracks?* Perplexing 
questions that needed to be answered flooded his keen, intelligent mind. 
Slowly he began to turn with bow and arrow still in hand. Then he heard a 
voice.

"It would be best if you just remained where you are, facing East. Please 
lay yourweapon on the ground as well."

*A woman!* Now he was more puzzled than before. *Bested by a woman*. 
Hestarted to speak.

"Don't talk, please. Put your bow down and rise to face me, and do it 
slowly. I'm only asking once."

He decided to follow her directions, anxious now to turn and see this female 
enemy facing him. The doe which he had been tracking turned and saw her 
opportunity for escape and leapt into the denseness of the woods, ironically 
rescued by a lady with a gun. In this particular case it was one female 
looking out for another. He reached for his hat as he began his ascent.

"Keep your hat on the ground. I want to clear, good look at you."

He followed her wishes, stood upright, then turned slowly around to face her 
as a meadow mouse ran swiftly over his hat. As he gazed at the sun into the 
fading light he could see that she was beautiful.

DOWNWIND FROM GLORY

Chapter Two

Years of hunting had taught him to conceal his emotions and he did so very 
convincingly. He gave her, arms outstretched, a position of compliance. His 
razor-like senses told him to stay alert. As he looked at her the words were 
out of his mouth without realizing it.

"U-wo-du-hi, Sv-hi-ye-yi, No-ki-si."

She stared with the rifle still pointing to his chest, their eyes locked 
upon each other.

"Do you speak English?" she asked him directly.

He smiled at her ever so slightly. "Yes."

"What language were you just speaking when you turned around and looked at 
me?"

"Cherokee."

"What did it mean?"

"I'd rather not say."

"I'd rather you did."

He observed her more closely now. Taller than his grandmother, but not as 
tall as Miss Alice Henderson. Somewhere in-between. Small boned, but not 
fragile. Delicate long fingers still grasped the trigger of her rifle. Her 
big hazel-green eyes with thick brown eyelashes were the showpiece of her 
noble heart-shaped face. Long fawn-brown hair which fell in small waves 
billowing past her waist hung loosely down her back. Her blue gingham, 
long-sleeved dress looked store-bought,
like one of Christy MacNeill's, over which was a dark green apron. A 
burnt-sienna leather jacket was unbuttoned around her. Looking down he 
noticed small sized, fleece-lined hiking boots on her feet. *Sensible*. A 
green knitted hat tucked into her jacket pocket completed the ensemble. *She 
looks more like a woodland fairy if
one believes in such creatures. Out of place and yet, on second thought, 
this habitat suits her perfectly. Are gossamer wings hidden under that 
jacket? Lovely. Who is she?*

She noted the male figure in front of her; *sinewy, above average height. 
His hair is long by today's standards and just a shade darker than mine. It 
suits him*. Beard stubble graced a masculine face, tanned from summers in 
the woods, no doubt. A blue wool shirt peeked out from his coat. His coat 
reminded her of a picture she had once seen of Davy Crockett. She smiled 
ever so slightly. *Quite ruggedly
handsome some might say. Serious, but kind eyes. Gray eyes the color of the 
clouds I saw during a storm over the lake only yesterday that threatened my 
part of Cutter Gap. A quiet confidence emanates from him*. He didn't fear 
her though she knew she had surprised him. *Should I trust him?*

"You haven't answered my question."

"How did you sneak up behind me without my knowing?"

"I asked you a question first."

He ignored her. This was turning into a game of cat and mouse. He had always 
observed that a cat will play with it's prey first before losing interest 
and then eating it. Sometimes the cat would unashamedly allow a mouse to 
think it was getting away, turn and look in the opposite direction, then 
turn around again and pounce upon it later. *She has no idea who she is 
dealing with. What's she doing
out here alone? A woman who looks likes this* He was miffed. *I ought to 
teach her a lesson she'll never forget.*

"What happens now? Do you take me prisoner?"

"No."

"I was only hunting for food. A good many folks around here need the meat of 
these little brothers and sisters. If I was trespassing on your land I pray 
for forgiveness and ask that we part in peace."

She paused, thinking, then lowered her rifle and uncocked the trigger. The 
light around them was fading fast. Gathering storm clouds hovered above them 
projecting the copse into night-time darkness. The mist grew and enveloped 
the landscape. Now was his chance. He stepped forward quickly. With one hand 
he jerked the rifle from her, opened the barrel and let the ammunition fall 
to the ground.

She turned and started running but he was too fast for her. He grabbed her 
left arm at the same time she got her foot caught in a hole and down to the 
ground she went and he along with her. Still holding on to her arm they lay 
on the ground until he turned to his right side and got partially up on his 
free arm. He looked down. His hand was bleeding. She lay gasping for breath 
as the wind was knocked out of her for a moment. Her breathing calmed 
somewhat a few seconds later.

"Don't you ever, ever let your guard down like that again! You don't know 
what kind of man I might be! My word, woman, have you ever looked at 
yourself in a mirror?!"

He let go of her arm and sat upright. She was shaking. She thought she had 
been so smart tracking him. Her godfather was an expert woodsman in the 
forests and moors of Scotland. Many was the time she stayed at his country 
home in Fort William and he taught her the ways of the woods. The year 
before he died she was finally able to find him without his knowing it. At 
that moment she was elated but soon after fell into a heap and cried a 
quiver of tears. The childhood game was
over and she had finally won but had lost oh, so much. Tears now filled her 
eyes. He watched her mesmerized. She reached over to check his hand.

"You're right, sir. I was playing a game from a long time ago. Please, it is 
I who must ask forgiveness."

Just then an owl hooted a warning from a nearby oak tree. Looking in its 
direction she absent-mindedly uttered, "The owl is the brother to the bear. 
The mighty oak a sister to the moon."

Lost in amazement he looked at her and asked, "Who are you?"

DOWNWIND FROM GLORY

Chapter Three

"Please. Let me take a look at that."

He gave her his hand. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket she retrieved a 
lady's handkerchief, folded it in a certain manner and placed it around his 
hand tightly. Removing the blue ribbon from around her delicate neck she 
skillfully tied it in place to keep the bleeding down. He frowned.

"It's not too bad. You should see a doctor just to be sure. It may need a 
suture or two."

A low hollow roar sailed in the heavens above them. Threats of rain were 
daily occurrences lately but were only that, threats. She heard his horse 
whinny.

"My cabin is not far. Will you escort me there?"

"Yes. I will. I want to know more."

"So do I."

After helping her up by taking her hand in his good one he turned to pick up 
her rifle and handed it to her. Bending down he grabbed the bullets amidst 
the pine needles and pocketed them. Walking a few steps farther he gathered 
his bow and the un-used arrow. Turning around to face her once more, he 
could see she had vanished. Now he was mad. Aloud he berated himself.

"I should never have turned my back on her! Talk about letting your guard 
down!"

He slowly moved in a circle taking in the whole of the scenery. The ground, 
the brush, trees, and sky. No sign. No clues. He stepped back to pick up his 
hat and brushed it off with his pant's leg. He turned and walked in the 
direction of his horse, Dancing Shadows. Quickly he leapt upon the beautiful 
Tennessee Walker. As Dancing Shadows took the lead he made a promise to 
himself in a whisper.

"Like your little sister, the doe, today you were successful in getting 
away, but I caution you. I will find her again, and I will find you. I will 
find you."

Forty long minutes went by.  Minutes which ticked in his head like a 
metronome and he just couldn't clear his thoughts away. Over and over again 
during the ride back to camp he studied the scenario of the earlier hour's 
drama. The peace he had felt when he had arisen in the cool of the morning, 
his oneness with nature, the scent of God's open sky were a lost memory 
after he had encountered "her". As he
approached the humble camp he heard a familiar, cheerful voice.

"Hey brother. You're back early."

"I know it," he replied sharply.

The man facing him raised an eyebrow, smiled and looked around, spotted his 
dog, which was lying comfortably under a shady oak tree, and shifted his 
feet.

"Well, Little Miss, looks like we've got the makin's of an ornery coot in 
our camp." His face still bore a smile.

"That's enough, Lucas."

"Brother, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, my Aunt Fanny. Where's the game?"

"Isn't any."

Lucas started laughing as he continued to tie some branches together for the 
wooden sled he was making.

"Oh come on, Billy, don't be messing with me."

"I'm not messing with you. I mean it."

"What happened?" he honestly inquired.

"Nothing," he snarled as he dismounted.

"Well, something happened. You come back to camp grouchier than an ol' 
grizzly bear."

"How would you know? You ain't even met a grizzly bear."

"I'd say I come mighty close today. What's eatin' at you?"

"Nothing, Lucas. Let it be. You just keep working there."

At that moment they heard a shriek in the sky and looking up through the 
gnarly trees of the southern slope as a red-tailed hawk came gracefully 
coasting through the air and landed on Lucas's muscular right arm. Lucas was 
taller than his older brother. Took after his Grandfather on his mother's 
side. He was slender, what his
grandmother called "a long drink of water". His thick brown hair fell in 
equal parts down his handsome face. He could charm the rattles off a 
rattlesnake easy. The Cherokee blood that ran through his veins seemed to 
show a bit more in the strength of his nose than his brother's. While he 
appeared more in tune with the wild, his was a gentler, less intense side of 
the two of them. He'd rather keep their
prey as pets than eat them, though he understood the reality of keeping a 
body fueled.

Billy was the Master hunter and always would be, though they were pretty 
much equals as far as adaptation to the wilderness and eeking a living out 
of the same. Each had a penchant for helping those less fortunate hence 
their four month stay in the cove. Ever since Billy had come per Dr. 
MacNeill's urging the previous Thanksgiving, they were generally accepted as 
"one of them" and rightly so. They were not ashamed to be called "mountain 
men," nor kin to the Cherokee. For them, each held a proud esteem as not 
only had their ancestors guarded this land for thousands of years, but in 
their bodies ran the blood of good American pioneer stock.

"Wing. Perhaps you had a better day at hunting, hmmm?" asked Lucas of the 
magnificent animal on his arm. The bird did not reply.

"He don't say, Billy, just like you. Don't matter. You'll get a smile on 
your face once you're sittin' at the table of the MacNeill's tonight."

Billy began to lead Dancing Shadows over to the creek for water. He bent 
down and took a drink of the refreshing waters himself, wet his neckerchief 
and replaced it around his neck, discarded his hat and stood there with his 
hand on one hip, lost in thought. *How did she manage to pull that on me 
twice?* His attention moved to the handkerchief tied around his hand. The 
hand was throbbing. Lucas walked up next to his brother. He noticed the hand 
at once. They
were trained to noticed details; quick minds, swift feet, and precision 
perfect reflexes.

Billy began to examine the cloth on his hand and untied the blue ribbon. 
Before his noisy brother asked, Billy reported.

"Cut it on a piece of shale. Darn sharp piece," he absently commented.

Lucas knew when to tease his brother and when to take a step back. Obviously 
Billy was riled about something, still, Lucas knowing better forged ahead.

"Hmmm." He cleared his throat. "Must have been a female variety of shale. 
Those can be quite deadly." His face remained perfectly serious.

"Yessssss," was Billy's drawn out answer.

They continued to look at his hand. "May be a good thing we're going to the 
Doc's for supper. Looks like that could use a little sewin'. Let me tie it 
back up for you."

"Lucas," he shook his head in the negative, "get me a different piece of 
cloth and some of that twine you were using. I ain't going with this on my 
hand."

After fetching the new materials Lucas went about making a make-shift 
dressing. His brother was so quiet, not at all his usual good-natured self.

"I'm gonna sit a spell behind that slope over there, by Wolf Rock." It was a 
serene setting which included an amazing pool of water filled with small 
wildlife; frogs,salamanders, and native fish. "I gotta do me some thinkin'."

As Lucas watched Billy retreat he bent down and picked up the lady's 
handkerchief and ribbon. Although the cloth was blood stained he could make 
out the initials embroidered on it's lacy corner. "RRG". Little Miss, 
wagging her tail, poked her head through the opening by his arm and received 
a warm welcome from her Master.

"Now what do you suppose Brother Billy's been up to, eh?"



Down Wind From Glory - Chapter 4


Neil and Christy MacNeil were enjoying an unusually somber day in their cozy 
rustic cabin.  Neil looked out the window.  *How can three shades of blue 
exist in the sky at one time?  Rain fell on one side and the heavens opened 
to the sun on the other. Deep in the forest brown deer dotted the landscape 
enjoying the tree's society.  He turned back to the cabin and took a seat at 
his work table.  They were nearing the date of their first anniversary.  
Christy could hardly believe the advance of time, day into day, to week, 
then months, marked by the occasional gathering of friends during holidays 
and school events.  One wedding had been performed in the months following 
theirs, Anna Hadley to Jerome Holt, Oziah's cousin, on the warmest day of 
summer.  Mountie O'Teale had passed out and scared the living daylights out 
of Swannie.

Christy was surprised and reasonably so when Miss Alice remarked at how 
happy a couple she and Neil looked.  Old memories and past hurts were being 
replaced with new experiences of joy though the old not forgotten, just 
maybe, forgiven, and fading like the mist that laid upon layers over the 
hills and mountains of the Smokies.

Christy was tidying up the small and bucolic kitchen while Neil sat at the 
side table labeling some medicine bottles and recording their contents into 
a ledger book.  He was a stickler for details when it came to his medical 
duties; a doctor could not be too careful.  His expertise required a quick 
mind, and since Christy came into his life, an ever bigger heart.  In truth, 
he was creating the task to avoid an outside job that wanted doing in the 
barn.  As of late he was prone to stay close by Christy when they were home 
together as he missed her when she couldn't be with him taking house calls.  
Teaching still took up a lot of her time but they both understood that a 
good education was what would make the most dramatic change in the lives of 
the children in and around Cutter Gap.  Change was coming fast and with it 
an opportunity for a brighter future, but with progress came some unwanted 
modifications, like the threat of lumber companies hankering for the 
hardwoods; the American Chestnut, which in some places comprised of half of 
the forest or so Christy had learned from Lucas Longfeather during his and 
Billy's last visit.  She so enjoyed their visits as they opened up about 
life in the raw in and around these mysterious mountains.

The black bear relied heavily on nuts as its major food source.  Many 
settlers in times past had preferred to plant black walnut trees in their 
sunny front yards.  Christy was miffed when Neil told her about the 
squirrels.  Evidently, from the comfort of Birdseye's front porch, sitting 
in a rocking chair, the man who's aim was as sharp as a razor would watch as 
a squirrel would climb the walnut tree in search of a nut.  Raising his 
rifle he'd hit his mark and later squirrel gravy would grace his table 
without his even leaving his front yard.

Neil had invited Billy and Lucas for supper that evening.  He had something 
special in mind to discuss with them.  One of Christy's home-cooked meals 
would put them in a good mood.  He couldn't believe what a wonderful cook 
she had become in the last year.  If "practice made perfect," she was a 
glowing example.  Her flaky baking powder biscuits could rival any of those 
made in the cove, including Aunt Polly Teague's.  They were close, very 
close.  He favored hers because she topped the dough with a brush of butter.

Christy walked over to the small oak table where Neil was working. "I hope 
those two boys are hungry because I think I may have cooked a little too 
much food.  You certainly were paid well in vegetables this week."  She 
placed her soft, warm hand upon his neck.

"He stopped his labeling and smiled up at her.  He loved it when she did 
that with her hand.  "Boys?  I'd hardly call them that," he grinned.  
"They're grown men, Christy."  His brows narrowed.

"I know!" she said in retaliation.  Her eyes were large with conviction.  "I 
guess after knowing you and..."

Neil put his arm around her waist.  "Yes, knowing me and what?"  He smiled 
at her again.  She blushed.  He loved it when she blushed.  She was such a 
lady.

Christy pushed him away and laughed softly, "Honestly, Neil!"  She shook her 
head.  "I mean you're a married man with a wife, a home, and 
responsibilities.  They seem like carefree boys.  I mean, I like them, Neil, 
as brothers go, they just live a different life than we do."

"You like them because they oooh and ahh after your cooking, I'll wager!"

"And why shouldn't they?" answered Christy as she moved away from Neil 
confidently and stood at the stove stirring a blue enameled pot simmering on 
the stove.  "I can't believe it, Neil.  Even I have come to prefer my own 
cooking.  When I last saw Fairlight she asked me for a recipe.  Me!  Can you 
believe it?"  Her face shown with a bright smile even thinking of what she 
had just said.

Neil chuckled to himself.  It gave him a warm feeling inside to see Christy 
happy at her accomplishments.  When she succeeded, so did he.

"Guess I'd better get the table set.  Lucas and Billy are due to arrive in 
the next half hour."

Christy moved to the kitchen table and began clearing Neil's things off to 
make room for four plates and utensils for supper.  Moving to the counter 
she retrieved the vase of cattails and dried leaves she had gathered earlier 
that day.  It made a lovely centerpiece.  When Lucas and Billy came, for 
some reason she wanted them to have a sense of home and family.  They seemed 
so alone in the world.  Perhaps tonight Neil would be able to draw Billy out 
of his "shell".  She loved to hear him speak.  If she could ever get him to 
talk on a subject to the children at the schoolhouse it would be a miracle.  
Billy was a loner, drawn into himself, yet at times there was a spark there, 
a light that just needed a little igniting to draw him out.  There were 
moments when he would relate some event to them and his eyes would shine 
like the top of the river water in the moonlight, then back to the steel 
gray as before.  His was a story just needing to be told.

Neil knew what Christy was thinking.  These little suppers were just an 
excuse to try and draw his friend out and into society.  Christy loved to 
hear his stories of the days gone by.  Neil hoped the story of Billy's life 
could wait for a better time of telling.  Around a supper table didn't seem 
the proper setting.  He knew part of the tale.  It was one of sadness, 
regret, and unbelievably cruel treatment.  Neil had often doubted the ways 
of the Lord and when his life had touched into Billy's space that bleak 
September day it was as though the blackness of hopelessness had swallowed 
them up.

**********************************************************************
Meanwhile...

Late Saturday afternoon had come so quickly after the business of the 
morning.  After weeding the last of the garden and picking beans and 
tomatoes, she made her way to Hattie McCabe's humble home to share the fruit 
of her labor.  Hattie had reminded her of the kind nursery maid in her 
grandfather's home.  Physically the two were very different.  Hannah had 
soft brown hair, which she wore in two long braids at the base of her neck.  
Her portly figure gave her comfort when, at will, Hannah would reach for her 
and give her an encircling hug.  It was Hannah who had given her the 
nickname, River Rose.  Where there was water, that's where you'd find River. 
  Her Grandfather called her "girl", and nothing more.  "Where is that girl? 
  Is the girl doing her studies at an acceptable level?  The girl's clothes 
are all dirty!  Is there any way you can manage to keep that girl indoors 
more often?"

River knew at that time in her life she was prone to behave more like a boy, 
yet, when called upon to serve as hostess at a rare gathering she would 
arise well above anyone's expectations in behavior and outward beauty.  She 
heard the occasional, "The girl's a pretty little thing.  Holds herself 
well," from her grandfather.

River didn't care about how she "held" herself, she wanted above all things 
just to please her Grandfather.  She wanted them to be a family.  Her mind 
came back to the present.   She hoped the mountain man's hand wasn't too 
badly hurt.  It was certainly disconcerting the way her insides seemed to 
churn when recalling their meeting in the dense of Gilley's Ridge.  It was a 
beautiful, peaceful spot, a place surely God himself would welcome a little 
respite on His seventh day, but then he never tired as His frail children 
did.

She had never ventured that far until this morning.  Once her eyes caught 
his lithe-like movements, almost one with the landscape, she was mesmerized 
and her instincts took over and her deep-down spark of restlessness prompted 
her to act far bolder than she had impetuously planned.  Dare she ask Aunt 
Hattie if she knew of a man who was one with the forest?  Could she 
adequately describe him?  Aunt Hattie couldn't see, that was plain, but she 
had read somewhere about the other senses making up for the loss of 
eyesight.  Spotting Hattie's cabin, she was finally there.

"Hallo?!"

"I heered ya a ways back.  Ya got tha' step of a young doe upon yer feet.  
Come and rest a spell."  A nuthatch chirped in the background.

River drew forwardand stepped through the threshold.  "Hello Hattie.  How do 
I find you feeling today?"  Hattie was sitting in a chair by the fireplace.  
She looked cold.

"Well, Miss Gatlin, in all honesty, a little puny.  It's these damp sunless 
days that kin jest wear a body out.  There's life in the light, you see, the 
sun's warmth that helps you to know all's right with tha' world.  Am I 
makin' sense?"

River kept her jacket on.  Hattie was right.  Except for a brief moment in 
the woods that morning the sun continued to play hide and seek with the 
marshmallow clouds and the clouds were winning.  River came to stand by 
Hattie.  She placed a hand on her shoulder which Hattie patted gently.

"It isn't often I find you melancholy, Miss Hattie.  Is something troubling 
you?"

"A woman's bit of wool-gathering's all and feelin' sorry fer herself, 
nothin' more.  Now that you're here ma day has brung light to it in a 
considerable way."

"How sweet of you to say so.  There are some this day I fear would rather I 
had never been born."  She came forward and pulled Hattie's shawl more 
firmly around her.  Next she walked to the chair by the window, grabbed the 
knitted lap blanket and placed it over her knees.  "I took it from the chair 
by the window."  River re-arranged the logs burning in the fireplace and 
brought over a couple of new ones from a large pile a few feet away.  In no 
time a large, cheerful fire was giving off a healthy glow inside the old 
homestead.  "Your woodpile has changed considerably since I was here last."

"Friend of mine came and helped gather and cut more.  Don't know how a 
body'd get along without the help of my neighbors."

"Dan?"

"No, weren't Dan.  It was Billy."

River sat down and took on a curious stance.  "Billy?"

"Williamson Morgan Longfeather.  Ain't that a mouthful!"

"William...Billy, as a nick-name, you mean?  Where does he live?"

"Named after a man who saved his Grandaddy's life, a Williamson Morgan.  He 
were a fur trader from the level lands who helped his grandfather hide in 
the Smoky Mountains when the Cherokee were forced to leave their lands."

"The Trail of Tears."

"Yes'm.  Rest of the family walked clear to Oklahoma but resettled in 
Minnesotalater, 'ceptin' a few scattered through these here mountains.  
Billy - he don't like his front name much, so's since he was a pup his 
family folks took ta callin' him Billy."

"Ah...where does he live?"

"Oh, not too far from here.  He took over Lum and Della's old place, much 
like you did old Doc Ham's.  Her folks settled here from Belle Plaine.  I 
knew his maw.  He were only six years old when she took to the fever an' was 
lost to us."

"Then you grew up together.  An old beau, perhaps?"  River smiled.

"Oh mercy me, no, child!  He's only a few years older than you be, I'd say."

"How do you know?  You can't see me," teased River, "I could be 90 years old 
with a very young voice."

"I know.  You carry yerself like a flower."

River's cheeks began to grow red and she changed the subject.  "I think I'll 
get supper on, after all, I invited myself over so I wouldn't have to eat 
alone tonight.  Sometimes I love the quiet, other times it speaks volumes to 
me and I can't settle down."  River patted her friend's hand and moved to 
wash the potatoes she had brought.  Hattie began to hum a tune from some 
ancient time and River's mind moved back to the man with steel gray eyes.

**********************************************************************

"We'll be leaving in a few weeks - maybe stay around another four, just 
before winter sets in.  I promised Walking Stick we'd bring some game in for 
the Blue clan.  Should be back in time for Christmas."

Christy smiled at the unusual names Billy used.  Billy's grandfather was 
Cherokee, which meant his father was half-Cherokee.  He had married a woman 
of Scotch-Irish decent.  He and Lucas had been raised by their Grandfather 
from the time he was eleven, though an Aunt in Shelbyville took them an 
occasional summer.  "Winters any different there? asked Christy as she 
passed the mashed potatoes to Neil.

Lucas answered, "Much milder.  Great for my critters.  Not near the amount 
of snow we get up here."

"We'll miss seeing you, but it is always good to check on friends and 
family," commented Christy.  "I was hoping to see you in a couple of weeks 
at the Cutter Gap Jubilee.  Perhaps with one of our local girls?"

"Christy!" Neil scolded.

"Billy smiled at Christy.  He could handle her directiveness just fine.  
"Personally, we look at that part of our lives like hunters."  He glanced at 
Lucas to be sure he'd get his meaning.  "We know the game is out there.  
There's precautions to be taken.  Lot's a youngins out there but it's the 
mature game we're after."

Neil's eyes began to twinkle knowing that Billy, in a round about way was 
giving his wife a set-down.  Christy's eyes got a little bigger and her face 
flushed a pretty pink.  Billy continued, lifting his fork with his hand as 
he talked.  "Have to have a lot of patience, be willing to wait till you get 
the right one in your site."  Billy then held his hands up like he was 
holding a rifle and had it pointed directly at Christy.  He continued on in 
dead seriousness.

"Once you've made up your mind that you're ready, all that's left to do is 
pull the trigger."  Billy made a clicking sound with his tongue as "the gun" 
went off.

Christy's eyes opened really wide and after a pregnant pause Lucas and Neil 
started laughing.

"Billy, put that "gun" away," teased Lucas.

"All I'm saying is hunting is not a sport, it's done for survival.  We got 
one female in the camp, Little Miss, and that's plenty!"


DOWNWIND FROM GLORY - CHAPTER 5

After the supper dishes were cleared Lucas moved outside to sit on the porch 
and enjoy the sounds of the river.  Little Miss joined him and together they 
rested peacefully.  Life was best during these times.  Doctor McNeill moved 
to the warmth of the fireplace and Billy followed after he had helped 
Christy clear the table of dishes.  His mother always told him women liked 
that.  The kind deed was not lost on Christy.

As Doctor McNeill lit up a blend of his favorite tobacco and took a deep 
drag of his pipe, he began his narrative to Billy.  "I'd like you to go with 
me tomorrow, up to Ring Around Tree's place.  The old mother is doing poorly 
and I don't have a command of the Cherokee language."

"Bear Rising must be getting on in years."

"There's no proof of her age, but the locals say she's at least 92."

"When do you want me?"

"At sun-up.  When we're done I need to get over to our neighbor's.  I 
promised to help cut some wood for her."

"Neighbor?"

"Yes.  A woman.  Seems her Godfather bought the old Cooper place.  She 
appears able to navigate the woods quite well, but needs some assistance.  I 
thought I'd round up Rob Allen or John Spencer to help with some of the wood 
that needs mending."

"That be the Cooper place?"

"Yes."

Billy's mind began to work quickly.  "Small gal, long hair, dressed half 
like a lady and half like a mountain woman?"

Neil looked intrigued.  "Yes.  You know her?"

"You might say that."  He fingered the handkerchief in his pocket.  His 
heart began to pound.  He hoped the Doctor didn't notice.  Billy said no 
more until it was time for them to leave.  He and Lucas thanked Christy for 
the meal and Billy promised Neil he'd be there again, tomorrow, around six 
in the morning.  They rode off to the hills with their bellies full and 
content, at least, Lucas did.

Meanwhile...

River Rose and Miss Hattie enjoyed their meal but it was getting late.  
River washed up the dishes as Hattie sang a song or two to pass time.  They 
said their goodbyes and River began walking home with just enough time to 
make it back to her cabin before night fell and all the cove would be 
enveloped in darkness.  There was only the promise of a sliver of the moon 
tonight.  No light would be waiting for her as she approached home like it 
had been in the old country.  She was alone, but she was at peace.  Once she 
reached the cabin she opened the door and grabbed for the lantern on the 
table. Finding the matches she struck the end and reached its fire to the 
wick.  Light began to glow softly, then brighter as she adjusted it.  She 
turned back to draw the metal latch she had installed that morning.  Someone 
could crawl through the window but they'd have a pretty hard time coming 
through the door.  The small bed near the fireplace looked very inviting.  
She went to the fireplace and started the kindling on fire and in a matter 
of moments was able to add a couple of nice logs.  That would work well for 
warmth until the early hours of the morning.  Although it was still the 
earliest part of Fall, the nights gave off a chill and the fire created not 
only a warm but cheery atmosphere to the rustic insides of the cabin.  
Discarding her clothes and hanging them on the hooks inside the small 
hallway she donned her favorite white cotton nightgown and settled between 
the sheets of her bed.  She was not afraid, though she should have been.  
Sometimes the young are too idealistic and hopeful about the future.  At 
least she'd had the sense to put a lock on the door.  The security of said 
lock aided in her ability to drift right off to sleep.

In the morning Billy had found his way to Dr. MacNeill's cabin as promised.  
Neil exited his cabin with a warm embrace and kiss from his wife and a 
promise to return before noon.  Neil mounted Charlie and he and Billy headed 
to the home of Rising Bear.

Rising Bear's son looked through the curtain as his mother voiced her dream 
in Cherokee.  "He be a healing man.  Speaks with a strange voice but his 
hands have been tetched by God Almighty hisself.  Surely the Healer be a 
comin' and my boy won't be meeting His maker taday.  I see him comin with a 
stranger.  They be pulling half-a-wagon by a mule.  It won't be no 
undertaker's wagon, no sir."

Ring-Around-Tree made his way to his mother's bed.  "No one here with wagon. 
  No one take your son."

She awoke and looked at him.  "No one take son. Wonder what happened to your 
cousin yesterday?  A lighten' tree took him.  Anyone look on a dyin' body is 
next one ta' die.  I look on him.  I die."

She was delirious.  If Dr. MacNeill didn't come soon it would be too late.  
He turned to see his wife, Willow Grass, about to hang a dishrag to dry.  
"Don't be a hangin' that dishrag on doorknob.  If'n you do, it'll be 
followed by death."  The Cherokee had somehow adapted to the strange 
superstitions of the mountains.

Willow Grass spoke.  "Won't matter.  The Great Spirit is coming for her 
soon.  It's her time."

"The White Man's Healer will be here soon."

"He'll be too late.  "He's busy tending people in the back country."

All they could do was wait.

*****************************************************************************

River woke that morning to sunshine slicing through the tree tops and soft 
dew on the ground.  After a sparse breakfast she went outside to survey the 
chores that still needed doing.  Mending the fence looked like a good job 
for today.  Dr. MacNeill had promised to come and chop wood or send her some 
help.  As strong as she thought she was, she couldn't split wood.  Raising 
the axe was all she could do to make kindling, but the other was a man's 
job.  She'd pay him for his help.  She wouldn't and couldn't expect 
back-breaking work from someone for nothing.  After some time on the fence 
she'd move up to the Spring and see if she couldn't coax more water from 
it's bountiful basin.

Neil and Billy had been in Ring Around Tree's home only minutes and it was 
as plain as could be seen on each man's face that Rising Bear's passing was 
only a matter of minutes.  Her heart had played out and Neil had given her 
some medicine to ease the pain.  Billy's need to interpret was not 
necessary.  She had already lapsed into a coma when they found her lying in 
her bed.

"She pass to the Great Spirit today.  Today she will tell of the great path 
that led our people to these mountains and the threat of taking us all away. 
  We have been looked upon with kindness by the Great Spirit.  It is He who 
helped us to stay here, to be born and die here, to be buried with our 
ancestors."

Dr. MacNeill was paid with a sack of corn though he had done little to help 
Rising Bear other than ease her journey into the Great Beyond.  Billy had 
sprinkled herbs and spices over her body and repeated an ancient blessing 
over their home.  It left him with a sadness and yearning, and it brought to 
the surface a painful memory for them both.

Slowly making their way back home Neil finally interrupted their period of 
silence.  "Billy, I'm sorry."

Billy looked over at Neil, then stared straight ahead.  "Nothin' to be sorry 
about, Healer.  Just life repeatin' itself, I guess."

"I never thought when I asked you to come that we'd face another death 
together."

"Don't pay it no never mind, Healer."  He paused, but a heaviness came upon 
his soul.  "You on your way to help your neighbor?"

"That was my plan."

"I imagine Mrs. MacNeill wouldn't mind seeing you sooner."

"I suppose not.  Why?"

"I could use some good hard work right now.  Why don't you jest let me go 
over there and do the work?"

"Are you sure?"

"I told you, I need to work off some of what happened today, what 
happened..."

"Yes, I think it's a good idea.  You know where the Cooper place is?"

"Yes."

No more was said until they came to a fork in the road and Dr. MacNeill 
stopped.  "Thank you, Billy."

"No thanks needed, Healer."  He pulled his horses reins to the right and 
sauntered off onto the trail anxious for something to do which would get his 
mind off of Rising Bear and the past.

As he entered the front of the yard no one was in sight.  Looking around the 
place he could see that she had been working on fixin' up the place but a 
lot still needed to be done.  The roof wouldn't see another big storm 
without blowing half-off.  He'd need Lucas to help with that.  He noticed an 
axe lying on the top of a log and seeing no wood pile he figured that was as 
good a place to start as any.  He was glad she wasn't around, if "she" was 
the "she" he was thinkin' she was.  He needed to work that off his mind and 
body, too.  He quickly set off to cuttin' wood.

An hour later River Rose headed back to the cabin.  She could hear the thud 
of an axe in the distance and smiled.  Company would be welcome.  Funny how 
at times all she wanted was to be alone, but today she felt like visiting 
with her fellow creatures.  Her heart stopped in her throat as she came 
around the bend of an oak tree and saw the image of a man chopping wood.  
For her.  It was "him".  Her heart started pounding in her chest and she 
ducked back around the tree, then peeked around to observe him once more.  
He intrigued her.

She looked over at the man who was swinging an ax over a pile of wood.  His 
wide brimmed black hat, with an embroidered band sat atop a log.  His 
longish hair was brown with golden lights at the ends.  He had on a white 
undershirt with a shirt over the top, a calico print in dark red.  He was 
removing the shirt as she came forward.  A dark-grey overcoat and grey scarf 
was thrown on the ground.  His boots stretched up to his calves.  A leather 
pouch with a powder horn were wound around his waist, pulled out of the way 
of his work.  She noted her handkerchief was tucked in the shirt pocket.

He felt her eyes upon his person before he actually saw her.  At first he 
tried to ignore her but knew that wasn't possible.  He'd have to explain his 
presence on her land.  He stopped chopping wood with a loud "thud" on the 
flank of the tree and turned to look at her.  He had almost forgotten how 
beautiful she was.  This was going to be harder than he thought.  Every part 
of his being became electrified as his steely gray eyes looked down into 
hers.

She couldn't speak, then found her voice.  "Are you thirsty?"

"Yes."  He answered simply.

"She took the jug of water wrapped around her and handed it to him.  He took 
it from her gently, unscrewed the top and took a hearty helping of water, 
replaced the cap and handed it back to her.

She swallowed and took a deep breath.  "Doc MacNeill send you my way?"

"Yes.  No.  I volunteered."

"That was kind of you."

He picked up the axe to begin his task when she stopped him.

"By the size of the woodpile I'd say you've been doing this for some time.  
May I offer you a few minutes to rest and take a little food?"

Billy rubbed at his stomach and realized he was rather hungry.  "All right." 
  He swung the axe back down.  "I'd like to eat out here if it's all the 
same to you."

River turned and entered her cabin.  She made some sandwiches and poured a 
couple of glasses of lemonade and brought them outside.  She handed a plate 
to Billy.  He had perched two logs on their ends to serve as seats.  After 
taking the plate he bowed his head to pray which surprised River.  She bowed 
hers as well as they thanked the Lord in silence.  Seconds later she looked 
up to see him eating and wondered what to do next.

"We've never been formerly introduced," she said.

"Billy Long" answered Billy as he looked at her, then straight ahead.

"Samantha Gatlin, though my friends call me River Rose."  She ventured her 
hand.  He wiped his off on his pants, then took hers in a friendly 
handshake.  *River Rose.  RRG* he thought to himself.

River decided that small talk would be the best to break the ice between 
them.

"It's so flat here."

"That's what makes it a 'cove'.  It's a flat valley resting between the 
mountains and ridges.  The land is scattered with narrow unpaved roads."

"Why are they so narrow?"

"They once was used as Indian trails.  Only needed to be as wide as a man, 
walking in single file.  That way, less of the land and wildlife would be 
disturbed.  That's the old road to Tuckaleechee.  They call it the Cooper 
Road, same as the folks what built the cabin you live in.  Judge Cooper cut 
it out back in 1840.  It's the most direct route to Maryville, though it's 
grown over the last mile or two.  It's an old thoroughfare and though the 
road is primitive it serves as a good point of direction."

"He was a Judge?"

"Not a real Judge, folks just called him that."

"That must have been the year he built the cabin.  I don't see how a man can 
do it alone."

"Most families helped each other.  Mules provided the muscle, simple tools 
and neighborly help was all that was needed to fell the trees, get them to 
the building site, and build the house.  The round logs were scored along 
their length with a felling ax, then hewn with a broad ax."

"Like the one you use today?"

"Yes...The notched corners didn't need no nails or pegs; gravity holds them 
together.  They filled the chinks..."

"Chinks...open spaces?"

"Yes.  They were filled with mud to seal out the wind, snow and rain.  The 
stone chimney in your cabin is held together with mud mortar."

"But then the war came and men folks had to leave."

"That's why so many of the cabins around these parts went to ruin.  On 
account of the Rebellion.  Some was Union and some was rebels.  Still, there 
are a few people in these parts who carry on as if the war is still going 
on.  Been a lot of boy babies born in the last few years.  My Grandmother 
used to say that was a sign from God there was gonna be a war."

"Where do you live, Billy?"

"I live in the remote hills."

"Why?"

"I like to be alone".

"It isn't good to be alone all of the time."

"I know it inspires a feelin' of infinite loneliness.  It's the cost of 
privacy."

"It's a wild place."

"Same as some people, and can't be tamed."

"Look at that plot of tall grass laying there by the road.  I see that a 
lot.  It's beautiful.  There's a field not far from here full of it.  I 
stood and watched it blow as the sun went down the other night.  I felt like 
I was in the ocean as I watched it wave and move across the land as though 
it were alive.  Billy...  Why is there a room attached to the back of the 
cabin?  Do you know what it was used for?"

She sure was full of questions.  "That be the 'stranger' room.  He added it 
on to give shelter to overnight visitors.  But one night there came a knock 
on the door, and the stranger was let in.  I hear tell he waited until the 
middle of the night to do his business.  Robbed and killed every last one of 
them.  Senseless.  Spent all the money in El Pano the next day, rented a 
room in the Tea House and hanged himself.  Old Man Gautney found him tha' 
next mornin'.  Left a note.  Guess he suffered a wound in the Battle of 
Shiloh by the hand of Cooper's brother.  He was crippled for life and never 
got over it.  He was bent on revenge and he got it, but it took his soul to 
Hell."

"Mr. Pentland said this was a dry forest.  It rains a lot."

"Even though it's a green place with fescue and kudzu choking the likes of 
the pines and oaks, it be a dry forest.  Look there...you can see Chestnut 
root systems sprouting still trying to live.  Sourwoods turn bright red in 
September.  Lookin' on the Spencer land it seems to be on fire.  One of the 
prettiest sights you'd ever see."  He looked at her seriously.  You know, 
you shouldn't be out here living alone.  You should have brought a friend 
with you."

"I asked her, but she was a fair-weather friend."

"What is that, exactly?"

"When times are good, when joy is plentiful, life is sweet and all is right 
with the world that friend is as close as your skin to share in all of the 
good gifts.  But, when times are hard, loved ones lost, and sadness sets 
into your heart as to break it in two and the sun goes down deep inside your 
soul, that friend is not to be found.  Storm clouds move in, the wind is 
bitter cold; that fair-weather friend keeps in the safe haven of their 
self-imposed world and cannot take part in the shadows of life.  Let the sun 
come shining back in and they are back as though they had never been 
absent."

"Yes, but you're talkin' earthly, not heavenly.  There is a friend that 
sticks closer than a brother."

He looked over at her and saw a terrible sadness had come across her.  Her 
beautiful face looked full of pain, and his heart took hold of it and mixed 
it with his own sadness.  Reaching over he grabbed her by the shoulders and 
with passion in his voice he looked her straight and steady in the face.  
"Every day is such a struggle, awaking to find past events haunting me like 
some dream I can't awake from.  Will there ever come a day when I'll open my 
eyes again and say it's good to be alive?  I don't want to walk like the 
dead in the land of the living.  I've got dreams, River Rose.  But they're 
fading dreams.  A fish still to catch there, in the Lake's green water..." 
He nodded over to the lake, its calmness reflected in his gaze.  "I see the 
sunbeams searching the floor of this painted forest.  I still hear the night 
call of the whip-poor-will, 'Where's Will?  Where's Will?...over on another 
hill."  He turned her to look past him as he held her in front of him.  "See 
those pumpkins... on frosted fields like fallen moons, the cornstalks 
rattling in the wind, clattering to each other like greeting storks.  My 
eyes have beheld the ancient tracks in the woods today, some leading to 
where?"  She began to cry softly.  "Go back, River, return once more to 
where you'll find the sounds of love and laughter and come here no more.  
Leave me to my dreams, my faded dreams."

He turned her around and searched her tear-streaked face.  Unable to control 
himself he bent his head to hers and kissed her, lightly at first, holding 
his emotions in check and then the dam broke and he kissed her as if his 
life depended on it.  For how long?  It seemed like an eternity.  Her lips 
were soft and yielding and he longed to have her close to him, as he 
had....He hadn't kissed a woman since...Reluctantly he pushed her away from 
him, then took her in his arms one more cradling the side of her face with 
his rough palm, taking in her scent before moving away quickly.  Then he 
became angry.  Was it anger?  Or was it just emotion boiling up and over 
him.  "You thief!"

Startled and still reeling from Billy's kiss River answered.  "Thief?  What 
do you mean?  I've stolen nothing!"

Billy paced back to her and then quickly to his horse.  "Yes, you have!"

"Stolen what?" she asked incredulously.

He looked at her and with a slight pitch of anger in his voice and tears in 
his eyes he answered under his breath.  "My heart, and I don't like it!"  
Without looking back he swung himself on Dancing Shadows and disappeared off 
into the orange-yellow dusk of the evening.  An owl hooted a goodbye with 
his departure and River stood motionless as she watched him leave.  The 
voice of the river drowned the sound of his horse's hooves.

Eleven miles away the figure of a man dressed in black slowly made his way 
through the rough-hewn trail.




To be continued.



Chapter 6 coming soon