6 Miles With Courage (23 page)

Rob stepped out of the shed squinting, his eyes adjusting to the light from the dimly lit shed. He spotted Judy and Ryan walking about the grounds looking for him.

“I’m over here,
” he said waving.

Ryan looked around
, and spotting his dad, immediately ran to him. Rob held his
arms open wide as they embraced tightly with one hand in the middle of the back, and one hand on the back of the head. It was a very long embrace.

This was the beginning of a new bond. It began with the crash
. It was an agonizing separation for the both of them but at last the separation was over.

“I never
ever
lost faith dad, I just want you to know that.”

“Son, I
knew
I could count on you. I
knew
you could make it!” They separated from the embrace but only enough to look each other in the face. Judy gave them some privacy and slipped into the cabin unnoticed.

“
Dad, you know where they found you don’t you?”

“Yes
I heard, in the top of a sixty-foot cypress.”

“You know I went down with the plane, right?”

“I knew that all along son. I felt as though I was right there with you.”

“Dad I thought you
were
! I mean I
really
thought you were!”

“I know
, your mother told me you’ve been having a hard time with this.”

“I have, with that and
with other things that I haven’t even brought up yet and what about you? How do you
feel about this? I really
need
to know if you’re feeling as wacked-out about all this as I am.”

“Son, I have a lot of issues from this. But as far as the fact of us being separated and yet we communicated
, God has given me peace.”

“How is that?”

“You know the old saying, if a tree falls in the forest, and there is nobody there to hear it, does it really make a sound?”

“I don’t get it, dad.”

“Son, did we really hear each other with our ears? You hear yourself think right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“All I am saying son is this. If God saw to it that we were to communicate, then that’s good enough for me. I’m just going to except it.”

“You mean like mental telepathy
?”

“Call it what you want son.” Rob said rubbing him on top of the head. “Come on
and let’s have mom make us some ice tea. What do you say?”

“Sure dad,” Ryan said as they both headed inside
.

Judy made their favorite meal—breaded meat and mashed potatoes—then she made a peach cobbler for desert. With the sun setting over the lake they sat out on the dock talking. Judy noticed that Rob had not regressed at all since Ryan’s return and she sensed a feeling of
confidence in Ryan that she had not seen in a long time. It was for Judy, the most enjoyable sunset and family talk she could ever remember. The sun, like a burning ember, dipped below the lake and the evening breeze sent the Sykes family into the cabin for the night.

“Well I think I’m going to take a shower,” Ryan said, “
It’s been a long day.”

Judy cleaned up the kitchen
while singing a tune as she had not felt this good in a
long
time. She put the coffee on for Rob.

“Where is dad?” Ryan asked after showering and dressing into some clean clothes. He had
more catching up to do.

“I believe he is out in the shed,” Judy said as she pulled back the curtain above the kitchen sink. She could see the light piercing the darkness from the half
-opened shed door. She knew he was out there getting in touch with his past.

“Why don’t you take him his coffee?” Judy said.

“Sure mom,” Ryan said as he grabbed a mug down from the shelf. Ryan knew how is dad liked his coffee—black.

Ryan shuffled out towards the shed trying not
to spill the full mug as he reached out and pulled the door open. It made a creaking sound.

Rob was sitting at the bench with his back to the door
, the dim light shone onto the bench. Rob did not turn around when he heard Ryan open the door but instead reached out and pulled back the cloth revealing the old sketch. Ryan dropped the coffee mug with a
crash!

“Dad
, that’s him!” Ryan said covering his mouth.

“That’s exactly the reaction I was expecting.” Rob said without turning around.

“That’s the Seminole Indian man that—”

“Pulled you out of the hole?” Rob finished the sentence before Ryan could.

“How did you know?” Ryan said stepping into the shed, sliding up to the bench by his dad’s side as his shoes crunched the broken bits of the coffee mug.

“I put two
-and-two together. You see Ranger Mike came by earlier this week and dropped off the backpack. He had forgotten to give it to you after the hike out,” Rob said pointing towards Ryan’s pack on a stool next to the work bench. “He told me about the ‘wild story’ you first gave them at the ranger station. I laughed it off in front of him but I knew then there had to be a connection between your story and the faces I saw while in the coma.”

“You saw faces?”

“Yes, and these were them. My grandpa showed these pictures to me when I was a child but I never bothered to find out anything about them until now.”

“What do you know about them?”

“Nothing, we are about to find out together,” Rob said reaching for the old brittle parchment that was attached to the sketch. He read it slowly and carefully. He had to, the writing was faded.

Ryan opened up the backpack w
hile his father was reading and occasionally letting out a chuckle. Ryan was really only interested in a couple of items in the backpack. After making sure the St. Christopher medal was still pinned safely inside he felt around and pulled out the spear point and the brittle leather dog collar and tag. The spear point looked the same but the collar seemed brittle now and the tag with the strange letters and numbers had deteriorated and broken apart. It was in small pieces at the bottom of the pack.

“Well I’ll be
!” Rob said setting down the parchment.

“What is it?”

“Well apparently this here portrait was drawn from recollection as told to your Great- Grandpa Benjamin. The portrait is of our ancestor. He was our great, and how many other greats are supposed to go in there,
grandfather
. He was
a Timacuan Indian.”

Rob picked up the parchment and continued reading.

“Says here that he was banished from the tribe for leaving a fellow tribesman to die after accidently falling into—a hole? My God, Ryan, are you hearing this.”

“I’m hearing it but I
don’t believe it,” Ryan said.

“
Read-on that’s just incredible!”

“Says here that he denied leaving his fellow tribesman
and that he said he offered to physically lift him out of the hole to which he refused. And that he offered to show him how he could climb out of the hole to which he
also
refused in order to protect his honor. He said that he would rather die in the hole then to be indebted to him for the rest of his life.”

Ryan went over to make sure the shed door was closed tightly. If anyone came around listening they would have thought the
y were both crazy.

“Apparently
there was an unwritten law, that if someone saved your life, you owed them yours.” Rob said.

“Ryan
, by helping you out of the hole he not only saved your life, but he proved his innocence.”

“But how did he know, dad? How is it that he came to help me?”

“By the same way we communicated back at the wreckage. I knew subconsciously that you were in trouble. I had seen these ancestors before, right here, on this very bench. I saw their faces in the coma too. Somehow they ‘channeled’ themselves through me to you. It’s the only explanation. God must have had a hand in this son.”

“Could it be because we ha
d the faith that we carry inside of us, and all the courage of the ancestors that have passed before us?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, and not only that, but
they
were given a chance to right a wrong that was brought against them, a chance that was not given to them in their lifetime.”

“Move on dad, go to the next one!” Ryan said
nervously peeking out of the shed door as if someone was listening, waiting to drag them away to the loony-bin.

Rob pulled back the cloth revealing an old glass photo of two confederate soldiers proudly posing in full military dress.

“That’s Jebediah!”
Ryan bust out with a loud whisper.

“And, based on the story Ranger Mike recanted to me, th
e other one is most likely his brother Obadiah.” Rob said as a matter-of-fact.

“What
does it say about them?”

Rob picked up the yellowed paper and read, “Jebediah was
a ravenous murderer who in a fit of rage and in the presence of witnesses shot his brother dead in cold blood.”

“That’s not true!” Ryan said, “It was an accident. I saw it happen!”

“Calm down son, remember not only did these people help you, but they were given a chance to right a wrong.” Rob said.

“It says here that the witnesses
, fearing for their lives, ran but heard the screams of Jebediah as the lord himself sent a bear to devour him.”

“That’s not true either!” Ryan said
, “The whole lot of them stepped between a cub and its mother and then Jebediah filled with grief blamed the bear for the death of his brother. I tried to get him to step out of the way, but he took on the bear in a knife fight.”

“It must have been a terrible thing to witness.”

“It was horrible dad, just horrible. I thought I would never be able to talk to anyone about it
ever!
” Ryan hung his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. Rob hugged him. Words were not necessary.

Ryan stared into the picture, and wiping the tears away saw the bayonet on Obadiah’s belt.

“Dad, that bayonet hanging from Obadiah’s belt, I used it to hack my way through the swamp to the uplands! When I reached the uplands it got hot and turned to dust before my very eyes! Why dad? Why would I have this arrow head, and yet that bayonet turned to dust? It’s been haunting me ever since it happened.” Ryan looked to his dad for an answer.

“How did you get the bayonet?”

“I rolled Obadiah over and took it off his belt. The lower part of his body was in the creek.”

“Well that’s it then. The bayonet, over the years, had rusted away in the creek bed.
It could not have been brought out of the swamp lands without returning to its natural state. The stone arrow head on the other hand
is
in its natural state.”

Ryan nodded his head with acceptance. Then he said, “Go to the next one dad.”

Rob turned back the cloth yet again. There was a picture of a man standing in front of an old panel work truck. On the truck was painted, “Commercial Painting Service call, QA-5-1212.” Sitting next to the man was an
Irish setter
.

“That’s Red!”
Ryan exclaimed.

“Well
sadly, I know this picture all too well,” Rob said.

“That number on the truck, that’s the number I s
aw on his collar.” Ryan said.

“That’s your mother
’s grandpa and his dog Red. That was the phone number back then. I don’t need to read about this one. This was a tragedy.”

“What happened?”

“Grandpa was an avid duck hunter. He always had Labradors but somehow he got a hold of this ‘Setter’. Red was afraid of his own shadow, but your mother’s grandpa just wouldn’t give up on him.”

“I can tell you that Red was no chicken of a dog,” Ryan said with certainty, “No Sir, not Red.”

“Some nearby duck hunters heard a panther and a man yelling in the distance and headed towards grandpa’s duck blind. Neither Red, nor your Grandpa was ever seen again. Grandpa’s boat was found several miles away. Nothing was in it, no gun, no lunch bucket—nothing. Everyone figured that Red just ran away leaving your grandpa to fend for himself but nobody could figure out why he didn’t fire his gun.”

“He didn’t fire his gun because he didn’t want to hit Red
, who was in a tangled fight with a panther! The fight most likely lead into the swamp where grandpa took his gun and lunch bucket in after them. He most likely had a heart attack or stroke and dropped somewhere in the swamp. Red would have returned to him and would have
never
left his side. I’m sure if grandpa were alive he would tell you that Red fought a good fight and came back to stay at his side
even unto his dying breath
.”