Walker's Trail: Return to the Mountains
Agripping post–Civil War coming-of-age adventure
set in the rugged Appalachian mountains
Walker’s Trail: Return to the Mountains picks up a year and a half after Zach Walker’s harrowing fight for survival in the rugged Appalachian mountains of the post–Civil War South. Haunted by memories and driven by a longing for the girl he left behind, Zach seizes an opportunity to return and find her. However, his journey takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a young Mexican girl who is desperate to save her missing sister. Her plea awakens old memories of his own struggle to protect his family, and Zach is compelled to help. What begins as a quest for love becomes a perilous adventure into a world of child abduction and human slavery, forcing him to confront danger, moral choices, and the meaning of true courage. Along the way, Zach discovers that the road back to love and belonging is rarely straight—and often leads to unexpected redemption.
A coming-of-age romantic suspense.
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Excerpt
Taken from Chapter One:
Chapter One
I hit him, and I hit him hard and fast. My first blow was a right fist that caught him on the cheek below his left eye. That stumbled him back a couple of steps. Before he could recover, I was on him, and I hit him with another right to the stomach that took his breath.
Orman Jennings had been a bully for as long as I had known him, which is all my life. Being nearly two years my senior, he had bullied me all through school and anyone else who was younger and smaller than him. It felt good to stand over him as he lay curled in the dirt, gasping for air.
“Get up, Orman! Get up and fight!” My fists were clenched tight, as well as my teeth. I was mad and ready to finish it. I suppose this was just the excuse I needed to teach him a lesson.
I had been fixing the fence on the north pasture next to the road when I saw Orman walk up to a kid half his size and push him to the ground. He then grabbed the boy’s fishing pole and broke it in half. The kid was my little cousin, Edgar, who was only eight. Orman is every bit of nineteen.
Instantly my temper flared when I saw it, and I threw the hammer that was in my hand. Sliding between the strands of barbed wire, I was on him before he even realized I was there. Without a word, I ran up and hit him with a good solid blow to the head. It was good that I was still wearing my leather gloves, or I would surely have busted a knuckle on his cheekbone. As it was, I left a good cut on his cheek that would likely scar.
I had never fought Orman before, or even stood up to him for that matter, being he was two years my senior. He had been much bigger than me for the longest time, but as my grandma would say, I had grown into my shoes now. At seventeen, I stood six feet, and though some might say a bit thin, I was strong and lean. Orman, on the other hand, was lazy and a bit soft in the middle, like his pa.
“Come on, Orman, get up and fight. Get up and fight somebody your own size—or do you just pick on children!” I taunted him, wanting a fight.
“He—he was….” Orman fought to catch his breath. “He was fishing in my spot.”
Orman tried to sit up, and I pushed him back to the ground with my boot. “Fishing in your spot! You don’t have a spot on the creek—none of us do. No, you are just a bully—a bully and a coward!”
When I moved my boot, Orman quickly got to his feet and backed away from me. He still staggered some from the blow I had given him. As he backed away, he wiped the blood from his cheek with his sleeve. The sight of his blood shook him more.
When he thought he was a good distance from me and safe, he began to yell and curse, “You think you something now that you came back from the mountains! You ain’t nothin,’ Zach Walker—you ain’t nothin.’”
I let him keep talking without replying. As a cousin of mine used to say, “let them have the last word, as long as you get the last deed.”
Rather than yell back, I turned my attention to Edgar, who was trying his best not to cry. As I dusted him off and started walking him home, I heard Orman call out one last warning to me.
“You’d better go back to them mountains, Zach Walker—you’d better go back if you know what’s good for you!”
Funny, he would say that because that was just what was on my mind. It has been nearly a year and a half since we returned from the mountains, and I have been thinking a lot about it lately.
Pa was buried there. He had been murdered by a family with no regard for anyone. I guess that is why Orman made me so mad. He reminded me of one of them. Mouthy like he was.
As bad as the memories were of the mountains, there were some good memories too. I often wondered what became of my old Indian friend, Gvhe. And, of course, I had a desire to see Rebekah again.
We did keep in touch, writing letters to each other as often as we could. Unfortunately, the mail isn’t very reliable where Rebekah lives, and she had to travel all of twenty miles to the nearest post office in Clayton. Besides being unreliable, it was a two-day journey there and back by wagon. Rebekah’s pa only made the trip once a month or so when he went for supplies. As for me, I only had to travel a couple of hours to Goshen to find a post office.
I would go by once a week and check for a letter and be delighted to find one when it came. In the beginning, there were several thick letters every month or so. Writing once a week, Rebekah kept me up to date with everything she was doing and how her family was. It was all very detailed. Although not much for writing, I would send one promptly back to Rebekah.
One of her letters told me that my old Indian friend, Gvhe, had found a small tribe of Indians living nearby and was spending more and more time with them. The last time she saw him, several months ago, he was traveling with a woman and a boy who looked about twelve. Rebekah seemed to think Gvhe had found a mate, and we were both very happy for him. That was the last letter I received from her. It was three months ago.
It concerned me greatly that I had not heard back, and I was anxious to hear something. I still wrote her and even wrote a letter to her ma. I was getting somewhat concerned and ached to get some news.
Pulling Edgar up on my horse, I sat him just behind me and started toward home. It was mid-afternoon. I could have worked another three hours, but honestly, my heart was not in it. My mind had been on Rebekah for several days, making it hard to concentrate on work.
Taking Edgar home was the excuse I needed to head back and talk to Ma. He lived just a mile from our house and is my Uncle Sam’s youngest. Sam is actually the son of my grandpa’s brother, making Edgar a second cousin or something along those lines. Whatever the family connection, he was family.
Uncle Sam had fought in the war, as well as two of his older sons. His boys were killed, and Sam lost his left leg just below the knee. Edgar was only a baby when his pa went to fight and is the only child he and his wife have left.
I often helped out around Uncle Sam’s place, seeing to helping him and Aunt Blanch keep the house and farm up. Even though Uncle Sam was one to do most anything, there were just some things he couldn’t do with a missing leg.
When we got there, Edgar told his pa about what had taken place and how I had whipped Orman. Uncle Sam was mighty grateful and wanted me to stay for supper, but I wanted to get home and talk to grandpa. I did stay around long enough to help him patch a place on the roof. One of the wood shanks had come loose and needed to be nailed back down. It didn’t take long.
After leaving Uncle Sam’s place, I headed home, intent on telling my ma I was going to the mountains. I knew she would argue against it again because she had talked me out of it several times already. I was sure this time would be the same, so I ran the conversation repeatedly in my mind as I approached the house.
My birthday was coming up in another week, and my plan was to catch Grandpa first and tell him of my intentions. I was leaving the day after my birthday. I would say to him I was not going to let anyone change my mind this time. Surely, he would understand. Then, with any luck, Grandpa would side with me when I told Ma.
It was good timing and planning on my part, I told myself, especially seeing how Ma had been in a really good mood the last couple of days. My Aunt Jane was down for a visit, and that always seemed to cheer Ma up.
Jane Walker is married to my cousin, William S. Walker, a US Marshal. He is the son of my pa’s brother. I call him Uncle William, but actually, he’s my cousin. I don’t remember when the uncle thing got started, but I guess it has to do with him being almost ten years older than me. I think he started it out when I was too young to remember it as a joke. Now I’ve called him uncle for so long that it’s like a habit that’s hard to break.
William had a lot to do with teaching me things when I was growing up and especially since we got back from the mountains. Things like hunting, fishing, shooting and surviving off the land. I suppose he thought it was his place to do so after my pa was killed.
Like me, he grew up in a good family that insisted on sound values and education. Unlike me, he went on to college and studied law. After two more years of schooling, he joined up with the US Marshals. Given his education and the fact that he has the attitude of not giving up or giving in, which is the attitude of us Walkers, good or bad, he quickly rose to be head of the Marshals in this area.
Lately, I’ve wondered what my life would have been like had Pa not decided to move us to Tennessee. I suppose I would be doing pretty much what I’m doing now, working with my grandpa.
Uncle William—William, even after he moved, would come down and visit from his office in Milledgeville as often as he could. After Carlton’s bunch killed Pa on the mountain, Uncle William and Aunt Jane came down more often, as much as once a month. Having no children of their own, I guess William took it upon himself to help Ma raise Emma and me, and I looked forward to his visits. Even now that I am older, he still teaches me a lot, especially when it comes to shooting and tracking.
The last few times he came down, William and I spent hours out in the old pasture shooting his Colt Peacemaker. With him teaching me, I’d gotten pretty good with shooting on the draw, and William had said I was a natural with a gun. He told me one day I would make a fine marshal. I don’t know about that. I guess I still haven’t made up my mind as to which direction my life is going to take.
I rode past the barn and circled the pasture and the hog pen before stabling my horse. There was no sign of Grandpa, which meant he was probably in the house or a neighbor’s house. I was hoping to find him outside so we could talk privately. I was anxious to face this as soon as I could before I lost my nerve.
It’s not like I’m scared of talking to Ma. I mean, it’s not like she would give me a whooping. The last time she did that, I couldn’t have been more than eight and deserved it rightly. I just didn’t want to hurt Ma. Also, she could argue mighty hard against something she was not in favor of.
Pulling the saddle from my horse, I gave him a quick brushing and a couple of arms full of hay and made certain there was plenty of fresh water. Grandpa put it in us that the animals always eat before we do.
I really hoped to catch my grandpa outside and talk to him alone. If he was in the house, the whole family would be there with him.
After Pa was killed and we had come back from the mountain, we took up to living in the big house with Grandma and Grandpa. When we left for Tennessee, Pa sold our house to Grandpa, and Grandpa, in turn, let it out to a young couple who were related to us. The young man’s name was Calvin, and he had just recently married a girl by the name of Virginia. They at first moved in with Calvin’s parents for a while, but it was trouble from the beginning. As Grandma put it, “two women in the same kitchen is not a good mix,” so they bought our old house.
When we came back, which was rather unexpected, my ma certainly didn’t want to put the young couple out; besides, Grandpa’s house was plenty big for all of us anyway, and he had plenty of work for me around the farm. He hired me on as soon as I finished school, paying as much as he did his other hired hands, which is a rightly sum. Other than spending a little here and there, I squirreled away most of my money, planning for my return to the mountains.
Grandpa made his money selling cross-ties to the Central Railroad & Banking Company of Georgia some thirty years ago. They were putting in the first railroad connecting Savannah to Macon, and he won the contract to deliver them the lumber. He made quite a bit of money from that deal, and one of the first things he did with it was to build his house. Having grown up in a two-room cabin with four brothers and three sisters, well, as he put it, he wanted a place where he could go to the outhouse without having to climb over bodies first.
When we got back from the mountains, Ma gave no objection to moving in with Grandma and Grandpa. She had spent most of her life in that house, and it was home. Ma and Grandma also got along good together in the kitchen.
Ma, Emma, and I slept upstairs, and each had our own room. The whole upstairs was pretty much ours since Grandma and Grandpa never went up there anymore. Their bedroom was on the bottom floor. Grandpa said he planned it that way so he wouldn’t have to climb stairs when he got old.
As soon as I entered the house, I knew my plans were sunk. All of them, Grandpa, Grandma, Ma, and Emma, were at the kitchen table. Ma looked up first, and I could tell from her expression something was wrong. Ma wasn’t good at hiding it when something worried her.
Grandpa was the first to speak.
“How much did you get done?” he asked. I could tell it was not so much a question as a way to start a conversation.
“Had to stop early and bring Edgar home. Orman was picking on him.”
Grandpa gave a slight nod and motioned me to the table.
As I crossed the floor, Grandma began giving me the news.
“William hasn’t made it here yet,” she began. “He was supposed to be here yesterday, but we haven’t heard a word from him. Jane is starting to get anxious, and so am I.”
She took a deep breath and continued. “This isn’t like William. We are afraid something has happened to him.”
“No word from him at all?”
“We tried contacting him by telegraph,” Ma spoke up. “But the only reply we got was he was out of the office. You would think that since Milledgeville is the state capital, they would keep better track of their Marshals.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, feeling a little confused about what that had to do with me. Whatever the case, I knew my plans to go to the mountains were over again.
Grandpa took over the conversation. “I pushed and finally got someone in his office to tell me he had been missing for several days. It seems he went after some outlaws shortly after Jane left to come here and has not been heard from since. It’s not like him not to send word or check on Jane.”
Jane needs to know.” Ma caught my eye before continuing. “She needs to know where her husband is or what has happened to him. She’s upstairs now in my room in a frightful mess.”
I was still somewhat confused about the whole situation. They were all looking at me like I had the answer. It all made me feel uneasy.
Ma finally started clearing things up. “Zach, somebody needs to go there and see what is going on. Your Grandpa and I agreed—after some discussion,” she shot Grandpa a glance that told me it was more than a discussion, “that you could probably make the trip faster than we could.”
Ma hesitated for a moment and looked down at the cup in front of her. It was her afternoon tea, and she had barely tasted it.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to—and you can have someone go with you if you would like—maybe Big Joe or one of the other hands.”
“No, Ma, I don’t mind going, and I could probably travel better alone and faster,” I said quickly.
My mind was turning with thoughts. This might be the opportunity I needed. Though, I honestly didn’t want to use what could be William’s misfortune to be my gain. Anyway, it was there, and I added my thoughts to the conversation.
“As long as I’m up that far north, I was thinking I could go ahead and pay a visit to the Donavan’s,” I said like it was something that had just come to mind.
Ma glanced up quickly. “The Donavan’s? You mean the mountains?”
I gave a quick nod. “Yes, ma’am. I haven’t heard from them in a while, so I thought I might check on ‘em. Maybe even see Gvhe while I’m there.”
“The mountains,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “That’s too much—too far and too dangerous.”
“Ma, I’m seventeen now….” I started to object, but she interrupted.
“Almost seventeen, and that’s still—still far too young for such a journey. Last time…”
“Mary,” Grandpa called her name softly. “When I was his age, I had already traveled west as far as Colorado and spent months alone on a horse. It’s only a couple of weeks, right Zach?”
He gave me a glance that told me I needed to say the right thing. I quickly agreed on the two weeks, and after a little more—a lot more discussion, Ma reluctantly agreed. Of course, I was to check on William first and send back word, and only then, if everything was good, I would then continue to the Donovan’s. Of course, I was instructed to send a telegraph as soon as I made it to Clayton and on my way back.
Emma didn’t like the notion of me going back to the mountains one little bit. She had become somewhat clingy to me since we’ve been back, even so much as to be bothersome. At first, it annoyed me greatly that she followed me every step, but Ma explained things to me. She told me that to Emma; I was more than just a big brother. I was the only one she could depend on for a time, and she looked up to me greatly. I guess when I started looking at it that way, being older and more adult in my thinking, I could see why she followed me so. After that, I was more careful about how I treated her.
That night, after supper, Grandpa and I sat on the porch and talked some. He got out his maps, and we marked out the way I would take and even so much as where I should camp.
We talked for a long time, just he and I. I enjoyed it, and besides, with everything going on in my thoughts, it was going to be hard to sleep.