An Unremembered History of the World
2
The turning point of this story is an incident which took place
during an uprising in the autumn of 17xx.
The Olneys lived an isolated life under primitive conditions in a remote
region of the Blue Mountains. They had not received news of the uprising,
had no expectation of the event which changed not only the course of their
own lives, but the courses of history as well.
Early that morning son Charles had gone off hunting for game as was his
custom. Game was plentiful in those days and he needn't go far, but he was
far enough off not to hear it when the indian raid came. Charles was hunting
toward the east and the small band of five Shawnee had stolen in from the
west.
Old Tom (he appeared much older than he actually was) was seated on a wooden
slat, lacing his boots, while Elizabeth washed carrots in a basin that passed
for a sink. Suddenly two indians burst into the cabin. Elizabeth screamed.
Tom reached toward the place where he kept his rifle, but the gun had been
left in the corner across the room and the first indian went directly to
it when he saw Tom's eyes snapping toward it.
Two more indians cautiously entered the back entrance and the Olney's immediately
became submissive. The indians bound their wrists and ushered them off into
the woods, heading west from where they had come.
When Charles returned to the cabin he swiftly discerned what had taken place.
Before heading out to find his family, he studied the forest from inside
the cabin. Figuring that he had been hunting to the east and not seen or
heard anything, he decided to search the several paths headed west. But
which direction had they gone? As he left the cabin he noticed on the ground
a scar in the dirt that pointed northwest. It was a marker from his father,
for Tom Olney, when he saw which direction the party was headed, pretended
to stumble and as he attempted to rise he scratched the earth with the toe
of his boot.
Charles crept cautiously through the old growth forest, wondering how long
it would take and how much time lay between them. The indians, however,
were in a hurry to return to their tribe. The leader of the party had taken
Tom's rifle and, from the way he handled it, appeared to know how to use
it. The others, armed with tomahawks, arrows and bows, also shared the responsibility
of carrying a bag of carrots and some clothing which they had taken from
the Olney homestead.
After two hours of hard walking Elizabeth fell exhausted and the indians
allowed them all to rest. One of the natives departed to see if they were
alone in the woods or were being tracked. He returned to the group and said
something which neither Tom nor Elizabeth could understand.
Charles found the trail easily. His father and sister had been discreetly
breaking tips of branches to mark the way so that Charles could rescue them.
Nevertheless, the tracking was tedious and several times the young man had
lost his way and had to return to where he was confident and try another
route.
The rest period was brief and the party moved on, only more slowly now.
They seemed in a better mood, talking and laughing for the first time that
day.
As evening approached one of the natives shouted something and they all
became very still. Tom could see that they were all quite young, the one
no more than a boy, and he thought of his own son, wondering if he would
ever see him again. At no time did the indians speak to them in a language
they could understand and Tom regretted that he had not learned the native
tongues his son Charles had mastered. His inability to figure out their
intentions created an increasing anxiety that shackled his thoughts.
The indian with the rifle had a twisted mouth which gave him a grim appearance.
He stood watching while the others gathered branches and brush to build
a small campfire. Olney had been shoved to the ground near a tree and his
ankles were tight bound with twine. He swiveled himself around in an attempt
to get comfortably situated, but finally lay on his side facing what would
soon become a campfire.
Olney's thoughts were torn. Part of him wished for his son to arrive and
rescue them. The other part of him felt absolute horror at the thought of
losing both of his children in one day. He recalled a fragment of scripture
about the futility of life, that whether we have been good or evil, the
same destiny awaits us all.
The whole thing happened so quickly it was incomprehensible. For Olney,
it was as if he were watching a drama, the players at this point being the
five indians and his daughter. His daughter was standing to the left of
his field of vision and the leader with the rifle no more than fifteen feet
away directly before him, three other indians in the background. The fifth
indian had come up behind the daughter and put his hand on her shoulder.
Instantly, he heard a loud shout behind him and knew it was Charles. "Nooooooooooooo!"
The indian with the twisted mouth swung the rifle up to his shoulder and
took aim. Olney went totally beserk, his eyes nearly busting out of his
head. In the deepest part of his heart, with his soul and with his whole
being he wished the indian to disappear, to no longer be there....no, there
was a prayer forming, and uttered it like a command: "Become a tree."
The rifle fell and when the butt hit the ground it fired up into the treetops.
When the sound died away all was still. Everything seemed to stop and all
of them, the four indians and the three Olneys, remained entranced by what
they had witnessed. Where the indian with the rifle had been standing there
now stood a small oak.
It seemed hours but was perhaps only a minute and the four indians scattered
into the woods. Olney himself was shaking his head back and forth, knowing
that somehow in some way a deep magic had worked in him to create this wonder.
A hushed silence pervaded the forest floor, and then gradually there were
the birdsongs and a chippering of ground squirrels.
Charles cut his father free from his bindings and the three of them walked
close to the oak.
"How did you do this?" Elizabeth asked.
"Why do you say I did this? God must have done this."
For a long time they held each other and cried, old Tom Olney crying more
deeply than he imagined possible.
"It's all right, Father," Charles said.
Olney took out a knife and gouged an X on the side of the tree. It seemed
to him that one day he would perhaps need to find this place again and remember
it. Turning to his children, "God has spared us for a purpose. Touch
this tree here, and remember this day. God has spared you for a purpose."
After passing the night in the woods the Olneys returned home to their cabin.
"I want to go to Philadelphia," Charles said the next day and
his father agreed that this would be good.
CONTINUE
copyright 1998 ed newman
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ennyman@cp.duluth.mn.us
an original story by ed newman
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