Long Hunt (9781101559208) by Cameron Judd Page B

had headed off to their beds, Mary having been offered a place on the single large straw tick that was the sleeping place of the three girls in the family, Micah reentered the cabin and sat down near Colyer. Noting his host’s obvious depression, he reached over and gently slapped his shoulder.
    â€œTerrible thing to happen to a neighbor,” Micah said as an intended prelude to words of comfort that he hoped would come to him of their own accord. None did, and the thought hung alone in the room like a ghost.
    Colyer, to the surprise of the other two men, began to weep softly. “My fault,” he said in a cracking, nearly silent voice. “My fault.”
    â€œIt was Indians who done it, Mr. Colyer. Not you. You can’t take blame for something done by others, especially red men.”
    â€œNo, sir . . . but fault I can take for having seen early sign of those savages, yet saying nothing of it. I should have spoke up. Should have given warning.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you?” asked Micah.
    â€œI was unsure of what I was seeing,” Colyer said, looking earnestly at the other two. “I am a man of the city by birth. I’m no woodsman as you two are. But now that I reflect on it, I know that what I saw was Indian sign. A full day before the poor Deverauxs were slaughtered. If I had spoke up we could have stopped it from happening.”
    â€œAll lives have their regrets,” Titus said. “My father says that often.”
    â€œBut you’re right,” Micah added. “You should have spoke up.”
    â€œAnd next time you will,” Titus added.
    Colyer stood and paced in a small circle for a few moments. “There will be no ‘next time,’ ” he said. “I am taking my family back to Fredericksburg. I came west only in hope of becoming a merchant when the country was settled and safe. I came too soon. This is a bloody land and I am not a man fit to stay here.”
    â€œThere are dangers everywhere, Mr. Colyer. Even in the cities.”
    The man sighed deeply, slumped, and stared at his visitors. “It is hard for me to put in words the guilt I feel. If only I had been more quick and clever and sure of myself, I could have saved their lives. It all would have been different.”
    Titus shook his head. “My father has also said to me, many times, ‘There is no place named “Would Have Been” where a man’s foot can find ground to stand.’ There is only what is. And all you can do is look square at it, find your trail through it, and trudge on, whether it is good land or bad.”
    Colyer nodded. “Your father is a wise man as well as a famous one, then,” he said. “But there is no comfort in words for me now.”
    Titus said, “Just let your sorrow flow through you until it’s gone. Then move on.”
    â€œIf only I could have saved them . . .”
    â€œThe past is past. Leave it there.”
    Micah, seeking to shift the conversation onto less somber ground, pointed toward the base of the door, where sat a yellow-hued stone about the size of a large man’s foot. “Something about that stone there draws my eye,” he said. “Is it just a doorstop?”
    Colyer lost a little of his gloom, clearly glad to have something mundane to which he could shift his focus. “It is a doorstop, but it isn’t just a stone I happened to pick up for that purpose. It was given to me three years back by an uncle, who in turn had gotten it from a long hunter who’d come out of Carolina. He told me I should guard that stone because it is ‘something important.’ What that meant, he never said.”
    â€œBut you’ve kept it anyway.”
    â€œThere is something about it that draws the eye, as you just said,” Colyer said. “And if it is viewed in certain lights . . .”
    â€œMay I take a better look at it?”
    â€œCertainly.”
    Micah rose and fetched