CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Cross Over the River
Malinda has camped at Anna Ruby Falls in northern Georgia for the past month. She has stayed as long as she thought it prudent; they must get back on the trail. Fall is coming on fast and she knows she must get to South Carolina before winter sets in. She also realizes if they get caught in a snowstorm in these mountains it will be disastrous, but Captain Marion had told her he would let her know when the Yankees pulled out. She has not seen him in over a month, and Yankees or not they have to get going.
Leaving their farm in April, Malinda had told Sary the trip to Scarlettsville should take about two months. Sometime during the month of June they should have been pulling into Scarlett, or what was left of it. Now it is August, and she is still at least a month away from their destination.
“Everyone set,” says Malinda, “South Carolina here we come!”
“Afore you say it Mizz Malinda, I done checked, we’s got Mister Robert’s big ole Bible on the wagon! Now let’s make tracks.”
The trail through the mountains of northern Georgia is tough going, but women or not they meet every obstacle that confronts them and overcome it with fortitude and determination.
They have driven a week or so away from the falls, Malinda remembers the Tallulah River, it is to be crossed pretty soon. The Tallulah is right on the border between Georgia and South Carolina; she had remembered Robert bargained with a man with a large raft that carried them across the river the last time. Maybe, she thought, someone had established a permanent ferry crossing. She also thought if a ferry was in business that was probably where the Yankees were camped.
At last on the morning of the second week as they top the mountain through a cut known as Fry Gap they can see the wide expanse of river down below. “Oh no!” Said Malinda. The Tallulah is in flood stage. Another day’s drive should put them on the water’s western edge.
Winding their way down the narrow mountain road, they see another wagon approaching. Malinda finds a wide place to pull her wagons over to allow the folks coming up the hill to pass. Once the uphill travelers are beside Malinda the driver stops, “You folks gonna try fer the Carolinny side?” Malinda nods. “Sorry to tell you this, but theys been having the most God-awful rain in these parts for the past couple weeks or so. The ferry is there all right, but the ferryman has done got swept away and they figure he’s got hizself drowned. Where’s you folks headed?”
“We’re trying to get to Scarlettsville, but you have dampened our hopes with your sad news.”
“Well now,” says he, “Scarlettsville huh? About two miles farther down this trail y’all will come to a fork in the road, the left ’en carries you to the ferry. Don’t go that away, but the right ’en will take you about ten miles down the river where’s there’s a place you can ford over to the other side. The waters are not more ’en three or four feet deep, and when y’all comes out on yonder side y’all be no more that a week’s travel to Scarlettsville. Jest be careful of deserters, and Yankees, they’ll take all yer vittles and sech. Jest watch out and good luck to y’all.” He slapped his reins against his mule’s flanks, “Gitta up there”, and his wagon continues up the mountain.
“Laws a mighty, Mizz Malinda do you reckon he’s tellin’ us the truth?”
“Well, I don’t know Sary, but why would someone just tell us a big fat lie for no reason. No, I think that the man was honest – we’re going down that right-hand fork when we get there.”
A few hours later they reach the fork in the road. Malinda did not hesitate; she drove her wagon down the fork leading to the right. William driving the rear cart follows her closely. “Sary pick us out a place to camp and we will make that river sometime tomorrow afternoon. We’ll camp out on this side and at first light, we will drive these wagons across that river like ‘Moses to the Promised Land’.”
They camped the night in a grove of cottonwood trees with a spring nearby, but at first light they are once again driving down the road to, hopefully, a place to ford the river. The road is flat, muddy but broad enough to allow passage in a favorable manner. By mid-afternoon they have reached the river; however, the rains of the past weeks have swollen the river to almost flood stage. ‘No way,’ thought Malinda, ‘is this river only three or four foot deep.’
“Sary, old friend, I don’t think God ever intended for us to get back to Scarlett. We’re just going to camp here for a few days until the flood waters subside so, then we will ford over to the other side.”
“Mizz Malinda, you be wrong. That ole Devil has done throwed everthang in our way, but don’t you never don’t believe it was God that has got us through each and ever time, and He’s gonna help us again. Don’t give up now girl, we’s will jest keeps on prayin’ exter hard. You’ll see it’ll work out.”
After supper, Stephen goes to the edge of the water and pokes a straight stick about eight foot long down into the water.
“What’s you doin’ Stephen Ingram are you crazy?” One of them asked.
“Nah, this is my measuring stick. You see, each day we can see how much the water in the river is dropping. Once it gets down to the three or four footmark, we can move on across. I took some axle grease and smeared it at the four foot line on the stick.”
“Thank you Stephen Ingram, that was really smart for you to think of the stick,” Malinda said patting Robert on the back.
The first day the water drops almost one whole foot, and it dropped a foot the second day. “At this rate, we may get to move out of here in a couple of more days.”
It is the afternoon of the fourth day, “Mama! Mama!” Yells Stephen standing at the edge of the river.
From the campfire Malinda answers, “Lands sake what is the matter with you child?”
“The stick, I can see the grease at the four foot mark!”
They all run to see Stephen’s stick for themselves.
“Sary, you and the kids pack up the wagons tonight, tomorrow we’re going across this old river! In a week, we’ll be home at Scarlett.”
The next morning they awake to a slight frost, “Sary, we didn’t get out of those mountains a day too soon.”
Malinda moves her wagon out into the water, at four feet deep the water should come about halfway between the wheel hub and the top wheel rim. She checks her wheel; the water is half way up the wheel. William follows in the second wagon; it is a bit smaller, and the water is almost to the top of his wagon wheel rim.
About half way across Malinda checks her wheel again; the water has risen to the top of the rim. William is ever worse; his wheels are below the top of the water. His cart is about to start floating. Any deeper and he is going to lose control. Malinda is worried, what if the water gets deeper?
To keep Blaze close to the front wagon little Lizzie is in the back of the front wagon feeding Blaze hay with one hand, and with the other she holds the wooden box containing the family Bible. William and Isaac are in the cart seat urging Blaze onward. “Oh no!” yells William looking to his left. A large tree uprooted by the floodwaters is floating swiftly toward them. “Hang on everyone, a tree is about to strike us!”
It was too late the tree rammed in to Malinda’s wagon with a sharp “thud.” William had stopped Blaze to let the limb past between the two wagons, but the impact knocks Lizzie from her perch in the rear of the wagon into the cold water. William yells, “Grab hold of the wagon Lizzie!” But it is too late she is being swiftly carried down the raging, rain-swollen river. Handing the reins to Isaac, William without hesitation jumps into the swirling, ice cold, waters and swims as hard as he can toward Lizzie. Malinda and Sary can hear her crying for help. They are helpless. Both sit and watch as the muddy floodwaters carry Lizzie and William out of sight and out of hearing range. “Do something,” yells Malinda at Sary, “Do something!” There is nothing they can do – Malinda’s two children have disappeared into the murky waters!
Both wagons forge on and reach the far bank. They are now in South Carolina, but no one ca
res. Malinda has just lost her oldest son and youngest daughter to a river with a name she can hardly pronounce.
Malinda sits in the wagon seat head buried in her hands crying. Crying as only a mother who has just witnessed the loss of two children can cry. Finally, she pulls herself together and steps down from the wagon, walks over to the riverbank and collapses on the mud.
Sary sets up camp with the hope William and Lizzie might, by chance, come walking back into their campsite. In her heart, she knows it is hopeless. No one could survive in the muddy, cold, rain-swollen river, no one, not even William as big and strong as he is.
They sit around the campfire, but no one speaks. The silence is deafening. No one knows what to say. Finally, it is Mattie Ann who asks, “Mama, what are we going to do?”
Just the sound of one of her children speaking brought Malinda back to reality – she has four other children that are still alive and must be seen after. She remembers the verse from the Bible’s Book of Matthew,
‘But Jesus said unto him, Follow me; and let the dead bury their dead.’
“I’ll tell you what we are going to do. We are staying here a couple of more weeks in case William and Lizzie turn up. If we do not hear from them, then we are leaving this...this...place and going to Scarlett and our family cemetery.”
One of the children asks why they would go to the Scarlett cemetery?
“We are going to add two new graves to our family cemetery at Scarlett. We may not ever see William and Lizzie’s earthly bodies again, but they are going to have a funeral. There will be a place where we can always go talk to them when the need arises. Now let’s all get some rest, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”