Luke and Nate, about three days riding north, are sitting around a crackling campfire when Luke remarks, “Darn, if it isn’t about as cold as I have seen in quite a spell for this time of year, you doing okay Nate?”
“Nah, I mean yeah, I’s okay Luke, I’s jest been sittin’ here thankin’ ‘bout my place in Carolinny. How fer yer reckon it is once we gets into that state? I don’t rightly know.”
“Well,” answers Luke, “we should be crossing the line into North Carolina sometime tomorrow, your farm is about a two-day ride to the east. Why? You thinking you might want to go see your old place?”
“Yeah, Luke that’s what I been thankin’.”
“I’ll tell you what Nate, that’s about a four or five day detour, two going and two coming back, but I’ll promise you this Nate, whether we find father or not on the way back we’re going to ride over to your place and check it out, what do you think?”
“Thanks, Luke, that makes me feels a tad better. I know there ain’t nothin’ there now, but I’d like to see fer myself. I’d like to see that Elsa and Nate Junior done got them a proper burial place.”
“Not to worry Nate, I totally understand – we’ll find your place on the way back. We will make sure your family has been put away nicely.”
This same evening almost two hundred miles due west William and Sam had made camp for the night on the banks of the Tennessee River. They had left South Carolina, made their way through the Smokey Mountains and were now on the outskirts of Knoxville, Tennessee. In a few more days, they should be in the Cumberland Mountains of Kentucky. So far, the trip had been un-noteworthy, which was most desirable for the two of them.
Four days later William says to Sam, “Sam look yonder, off to the northwest see that, ain’t that blue smoke on the horizon?”
“That ain’t smoke William thems the Cumberlands. We’ll be at the farm tomorrow or no later than the next for sure. I hope the farmhouse is still there.”
Sam was right. Late in the afternoon of the second day they arrive at the gate leading to Sam’s old home place. From the road, they can see the farmhouse is still standing right where they left it. Sam can wait no longer, “Come on William,” he said spurring his horse in to a gallop. William follows close behind. Kentuck isn’t following anyone; he has already slipped under the gate and is running full speed toward his old home.
As they enter the yard, everything seems to be in place, but overgrown with weeds and grass of the past summer and fall. The barn is still there and up on the hillside above the house Sam can still see the two cross markers for his father and mother’s graves.
Once inside, the house appears to be just as it had been left. The furniture covered with a fine silt of dust and a couple of the windowpanes broken, but all in all, it is in pretty good shape. “Let’s get a fire going Sam, I’m freezing. While I start the fire Sam poke something in those broken windows.”
Sam, William, and Kentuck sit warming themselves when William mentions the outlaw’s horses. “Sam, those horses should still be over in the back pasture. I think we need to go round up a couple of those fresh ponies to ride into the mountains and get started in a couple of days. I’ll wager they will be glad to see some human faces.”
“William it is going to be a while before we will be able to venture into those hills, and we will not be riding horses.”
“What,” exclaimed William? “I thought we would be able to go in a couple of days, and you’re saying with no horses? What am I missing Sam?”
“Snow! You’re missing the snow. These mountains will have at least two to three feet of snow on them for another month or so.”
“Now wait Sam. We don’t have another month or so, we need to be finding that creek now. Times a wasting.”
“William the only way, to get into the mountains this time of the year, is with snowshoes. And yeah, I’ve got some, but traipsing up and down these old mountains on them things will kill a feller.”
“Okay, okay, I understand Sam, but figuring by the map how far do you think it is to that gold filled creek?”
“From here I’m saying about eight or ten miles.”
“Eight or ten miles, why Sam that ain’t nothing.”
“You ever walked in a pair of snowshoes William?”
“No!”
“Then you’re nothing is really going to be something.”
“It can’t be that bad, let’s head out in a couple of days after we’ve rested up some.”
“William if you think walkin’ ten miles over these mountains in snowshoes isn’t bad, I’m here to tell you – you are in for a rude awakening. You’re really gonna need that rest!”