Time Drifters
Chapter Eight: The How

Stone faced and as still as a tree, there was an Indian staring at me.

I physically seized even as my mind raced. This was the past. How far west were we? How friendly were the Native Americans? They had lots of reasons to be aggressive towards White people, and I remember Mr. Danby’s response to me about the first Thanksgiving.

I stared and tried to swallow but I couldn’t. He had a buckskin jacket with some kind of cotton shirt on underneath it. Regular pants. Civilized clothing. That was good. But how did he get them? His face looked very flat like it was carved out of a board. His hair was pulled tight into a thick ponytail. Bound with beads, it lay across one shoulder.

“Hello young wheel-maker,” he said. His voice was deep and slow.

I nodded and started backing up. One foot and then the other, around the bush. His eyes followed me with only mild curiosity. Clear of the bushes I nodded again and then I turned. Why had I come out so far? My walk sped up and before I knew it, I was running as fast as I could, not daring to look back. I hadn’t scanned for weapons. What if…?

I caught movement off to the right and saw the twins crashing through bushes, laughing as they raced.

“Liam!” they called out, happily. But their expressions shifted when I got closer. I was pointing behind me. I tried to speak but my mouth was totally dry.

“Indie,” I sputtered.

“What?”

“Indians!” I rasped. They looked over my shoulder but I didn’t bother to wait.

The next few moments were just chaos. I careened around the corner of the cabin and slammed into Gwendolyn with my arm. She doubled over. I skidded into Caelen, who broke my speed and grabbed me by the arms.

“Native… American,” I spit it out, gesturing wildly.

“Oh, Lord,” moaned Gwendolyn, leaning up against the weathered boards of the cabin, while Marijka and Capucine emerged. Thomas darted around them, with Caelen a heartbeat behind. They hadn’t yet gone when I heard two squeals from behind the cabin, followed by two voices almost simultaneously saying, “Ow!”

Marijka was trying to get me to speak when Rufus and Barkley appeared. They were walking sullenly, one holding his nose, the other rubbing his ear.

“He’s so fast,” said the ear-rubbing twin.

“And Walker, Sr. makes our ninth,” Thomas said, casually rounding the corner with Caelen and the stone-faced young man.

“Got yer Injun for ya, though, Liam,” said one brother as he gently touched his nose, testing to see if some of the pain was going.

“A Native American, not an Injun,” I said, feeling heat in my face from my regrets.

“You don’t correct them like that,” snapped Thomas. I shriveled and then more so when he approached and pulled me aside. I glanced at Caelen but he stood firm.

“Look, you’re right for your time period,” whispered Thomas in a surprisingly understanding tone. “You and I know that. But they’re from the 30s and they’re right, too. You might change their attitudes about some things, but you can’t change their words.” He straightened up and glared at me until I nodded that I understood. “It doesn’t mean they don’t respect him,” he added, “and that’s the most important thing.”

He turned back to the loose circle everyone formed in front of the cabin.

“So you all know,” Thomas said loudly, “This is Liam Trinder’s first Drift? And Capucine? How many for you?”

“Three,” she answered bravely. She began biting her lip as her eyes darted from face to face.

“Just so we are all clear on that,” he added.

“I think we comprehend,” said Gwendolyn. “Do you?”

Caelen snorted briefly and then pretended to clear his throat. His eyes returned to Gwendolyn. He was fighting a smirk, but there was something more to his gaze and the way she returned the look.

Marijka had been speaking privately with Walker, Sr.

“And, Thomas,” she said, waving the sheet of paper in her hand, “Walker is the eldest. I’ll just finish the Post.”

Thomas nodded as Marijka went inside.

“Would you like to run point?” Thomas asked.

Walker, Sr. solemnly contemplated this thought. He sat down and all the rest of us did the same, although from the looks on their faces, it didn’t seem like this was a usual thing. He looked at each of us, one by one, around the circle before finally holding up his open palm in deference.

“You may,” was all he said.

“There’s good news and bad,” said Caelen without delay. “The sound was from cannon fire out on the river, mostly British with some Revolutionary backlash. Fortunately, it is mostly on the other side, and, fortunately, I recognize the shoreline.” He looked at me, smiling. “Liam, we are practically home, give or take a century.”

“We’re just north of Tarrytown,” interjected Thomas. “Unfortunately….”

“Aye,” Caelen acknowledged, “Given the date, where we are is somewhere in what was called ‘No Man’s Land.’”

“Meaning?” asked Gwendolyn.

“Between enemy lines,” Caelen responded.

“Right in the line of fire,” said one of the twins, his eyes lighting up.

“Dangerous enough,” corrected Caelen, “but with thirty miles distance between the Patriots to the north and the British to the south, ‘tis nay so much the problem of them shooting at each other as it is the lawless atmosphere that exists in the void.”

“And Caelen’s pretty sure he knows the event itself,” Thomas added.

“Tarrytown is famous for being the place where Major John Andre was apprehended with plans to the West Point fortress given him by Benedict Arnold,” Caelen said, suddenly putting his hand to the middle of his chest. I perked up immediately at the sound of the name. I knew about this. Lots about it, in fact.

“They still talk of it in yer time then, Liam?” Caelen asked, brightening. “It was three men.”

“And the plans were in his boot,” I said. “And he rode alone for the last fifteen miles before they got him.” As I was speaking, I could have swore there was a bug that was crawling around on my chest. I suddenly jumped up and started shaking out my shirt to get rid of it. The others start giggling.

“First Drift and he already has the answers,” said Thomas, sneering.

“It’s your stone, Liam,” said the twin sitting closest to me. “Means you’re onto somethin’… the reason we’re here.”

“It’s a good thing,” said Marijka, touching my shoulder as she came back to join the group. “Your stone vibrates when your thoughts are resonating with your purpose.”

“Careful,” Thomas chided.

“Also means he’s ticklish,” chortled one of the twins.

“But we knew that, Barks,” concluded Rufus, elbowing his brother mischievously. Finally, I had a way of identifying them, provided they didn’t move.

Walker Sr. and Capucine were the only ones not smiling. She motioned to me to press both hands close to my chest. I smiled at her and found my crystal through the fabric of my shirt, and then held onto it.

“If Benedict Arnold’s treason is not discovered, the British might take over the fortress and seize control of the Hudson,” explained Caelen.

“If that happened then the revolutionary forces in the north would be stranded,” I continued. “It was a really important turning point in the war.”

“Is,” noted Gwendolyn. “It is, or will be an important turning point, and one that we need to ensure favors the Patriots, as our shared history would indicate.”

“Clearly,” said Thomas. “But now we need specifics. Such as where and when, and then how.”

“I know where,” I said. “There’s a statue in the park across from my school…” I stopped, thinking I might have messed up.

“Yes,” said Caelen. “I know the spot as well. Two freed Negroes gave over their land on the place it supposedly happened. They started that statue back in ’53, before I was even born.”

I flinched, hearing Caelen use that word, instead of saying African-American. But there were worse words, of course. And I supposed Thomas had made a point about the importance of the feeling behind the words people used.

“Do you think you could find this place by any other landmarks?” Thomas asked.

“I believe so,” Caelen responded. “There is a stream nearby, the Pocantico. ‘Tis worth the try.”

“October,” I said. All heads jerked in my direction.

“Good Lord,” Marijka said. “It’s only the 22^nd of September.”

“Oh, no. It happens on September 23^rd,” I said almost without thinking. The others looked perplexed. “I just remember that the three men, the ones that catch Major Andre, they were all born in October.”

“Fantastic,” said Thomas. “Let’s all sign a card for them.”

“Honestly, Thomas!” exclaimed Gwendolyn. “The salient point in Liam’s statement is that this capture happens tomorrow. Is that correct?”

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded. “At nine a.m.”

“How do you know that?” asked Rufus, fascinated.

“Like I said, the statue in the park… it has a plaque on it,” I answered, remembering a field trip we’d taken, basically across the street, when we were in fifth grade.

That was the first time that Harris and I talked. We’d both been shy and I was standing away from the class. I saw him tracing his finger over the plaque while our teacher was droning on about something. He wouldn’t look at me. He just kept circling his finger on the raised, metal letters and he kept returning to the number nine. I found the “O” in October and noticed that it happened three times with the birth dates of the Patriots who were being honored.

“We’ve got the when and almost the where,” said Thomas. “We can figure out the how and the rest of the plan later.”

“Yeah, it’s gettin’ dark,” said Rufus, standing, “Especially if we’re going to get any food for an overnight.”

The others rose as well but I just sat there. Overnight? I can’t! That’s what I was screaming in my mind. My parents will freak out. And truthfully, I was freaking out. Where would we sleep? And what was Rufus talking about, getting food? Not like there was any take-out places nearby.

“Caelen, Walker Sr. and I will go south to try to locate the place where this happens,” said Thomas.

“We’re coming,” said Barkley.

“We need food,” Thomas countered. “You two know how to find something.”

“I will go to the river, for fish,” said Walker, “And then north. I will find the trails that the Major could travel.”

“Well, we’ll come…” Barkley started to say, quickly dropping the proposal after one look from Walker. This time, I thought it was funny. Walker was obviously his own person and kind of a loner.

“I could come with you, then,” Marijka said to Thomas.

“And leave me here, with them?” Gwendolyn said. “Were I an octopus I still would be lacking enough arms.”

“’Tis not safe,” Caelen said. The twins went to object but he shot them down. “It is No-Man’s Land, not only because the people have left… there are gangs of bandits closer to town, trying to sell goods to the army. Best that you remain here ‘till we return.”

My head was still reeling and I didn’t totally understand what was going on, or what we were doing here. It all seemed unreal, as though someone might call intermission, or break for a commercial. But there was no escaping the moment and no getting away from the fact that we were here and there was something we had to do. How, I had no clue. The other guys took off, the girls went inside and I became a sentry at the door simply because I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Now that the cannon fire had ceased, I noticed it was a pretty pleasant evening. And I had been helpful, sort of. My crystal had buzzed and that was cool, now that I knew what it meant. I wracked my mind for as much as I could remember about the incident with Major Andre. I took it for granted that I knew about the three men, but it took work to pull back the details.

Major Andre had been one of the top spies for the British. He was well liked and spoke four languages… that may be good to know. He came from England and he also liked to write and draw, and even sing. Thomas would probably swat me if I told him about that. Then again, who was to say what was important and what wasn’t?

The light had shifted and it suddenly got cooler in the shadows of the trees. At this moment, Benedict Arnold would be meeting with Major Andre farther north. Because of the cannons we just heard, Arnold’s ship would move. Arnold and Andre would realize that they could not return on the river, so Andre was given civilian clothes to replace his redcoat officer’s uniform. He was given a passport as well, with a fake American name in it. That always seemed strange to me, since he wasn’t traveling out of the country. But now I had a better understanding, being in the middle of things… literally. It was as though two different countries existed; the one that the American Patriots wanted to create and the other that the British were trying to hold onto. Two realities battling and only one would win.

Gwendolyn emerged with the large pot in hand, instructing Capucine and me to go and gather kindling. Just then, we heard a squeal from inside and ran in to find Marijka jumping up and down, trying to rub her foot.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, still wincing. “I dropped the brick. I thought there was a mouse, but it’s dead. It just frightened me.”

Gwendolyn told us to take the bricks outside. She wanted to make a place for the pot to boil water. On our second trip, Marijka stepped out to join us but she froze.

“Get inside!” she said, suddenly. She hushed our questions and tried to close the door as quietly as possible, motioning to Gwendolyn to be quiet. Marijka ushered us to press into the front right corner of the cabin, and she put her hand over Capucine’s mouth.

I heard men’s voices and the snorting protests of horses that were being pulled to a stop. I could only make out words and phrases as they gushed over the front window sill; “… already been there…” “… saw somebody…swear it…”

There were footsteps and they were getting closer.

Gwendolyn stroked the back of Capucine’s hair, trying to keep her calm. I heard a man hork and then spit right outside.

“Hallo the house,” said a gruff and raspy voice, as a head poked in through the window.

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