I am going to tell you what happened, now I won't give every detail as my hand gets tired and my eyes old. As incredible and unbelievable as what happened to me is, I swear it's the gospel. As they used to say, if I am lying I am dying, which I am but that has nothing to do with the truth of the matter.
Now I never was a guy that likes fishing, one, I am allergic to fish so I don't eat it. Two, I found it to be boring and I guess that is reason I never took up golf either. What I do like is too go camping and boating. Not these fancy modern day camping as so many people do. To me that's not camping, it's a act of pretending to camp.
I was twenty years old, still in college. Now as I am not going to hide from you the negative side of who I am, I feel I must be honest and give the ugly truth. I was marred to a pretty girl I had met in church. We were happy enough, money tight and we wished for a baby but so far, not yet. We got marred just after I turned 19 and we had dated more then a year.
On this occasion I had a week of vacation and she didn't. She suggested I go down to the black River and camp a few days. My folks lived close by so I could visit them too and she would come down that weekend with my brother and his wife.
I was really stoked up about it, days walking trails, floating down the river and sleeping under a fresh made lean too. I made the drive and rented a old John boat and drove along the river till I found a perfect spot. I built my lean too and a rock fire pit. That first night I fried up some pork steaks over the open fire and slept on my folded blankets, listening to the beauty of the night sounds.
Next morning I grabbed my book I had brought along, Stephen Kings, The Shining, grabbed some hot dogs and my cooler of cokes. Jumped into that old boat and pushed off. I just let the current carry me down the river. I pulled my cowboy hat down low and stretched out reading. At some point, I noticed it was getting dark as rain clouds moved in.
I tried to start the motor with no success. I kicked myself for not having tried it before I cast off. Reached for the oars to find, I had left them on the bank. The rain began to come down like no storm I ever saw, lightening flashing and thunder so loud it echoed like cannon shots. The boat was tossed around like a trig and yes I was plenty scared.
The boat was tossed in a cove, and as it neared the shore I tried to grab a low hanging branch. That was a mistake, as I stood bracing myself and reached for the branch, the boat lurched and I hit my head. Next thing I remember was laying on the muddy cove bank. I was so cold I thought the hand of death had touched me.
A young woman was leaning over me, she had long black hair and dark eyes and skin that was a deep tan look. Her dress was that of, wait you won't believe this. She was wearing the handmade leather gown of a Indian, like I had seen in pictures of the Wild West.
I don't know how she did it, but somehow she got me to her cabin that sit up a small hill. She had me on a old straw mattress on a bed that was made from tree limbs and leather straps. I remember waking up, and she was always there feeding me broth and herb teas and sponging my head. I remember her walking and holding me up to the out house and if it was just to drain the radiator she held me next to a tree always looking away.
I am not sure how I long I was in this condition, I remember other Indians coming in and talking in a language I had never heard. It reminded me of grandma, I recalled her speaking like that one time when angry. Her momma was a full blooded Cherokee Indian.
As I got better I sit with her at a table that was more of a group of logs cut and stood on end making a circle and shorter ones to sit on at it. There was a nice stone fire place with a black kettle that seemed to always have a stew or broth in it. I learned the Indians brought he meat and she had a cellar where she stored dry goods and the meat in a basket she kept in the river.
The plates and cups were made from clay. She spoke English but not as well as the Indian tongue. She explained to me her father had been a doctor and was killed in the war. Her momma was Creek Indian and her daddy had taken her as bride many years before. Her mother died of the fever when she was only ten and she was nineteen now. She had learned Indian medicine from her mother and white mans medicine from her daddy.
So the Indians came to her and the few white folks on near by farms came to her. I never gave thought to ask what year it was as I was getting better day by day until a group rode up on horse back. They were men wearing ragged gray uniforms and two had wounds from musket balls. I helped her, and knowing a little from my own modern time and being a reader. We used gun powder and cleaned the wounds with pickle juice.
When they had left, I asked her what year it was? It was 1864, I thought I must be dead or having some illusion. I told her that wasn't possible that it was 1974. We argued about it, but I knew she was right. I told her that I already knew how the war would end and gave her the whole story.
Over the next weeks I walked miles and all I saw was things that confirmed I had somehow gone back in time. Perhaps one of those black holes. So I didn't feel guilty for falling in love with her, Beaming Eyes and I was married by the chief.
We went on living there and I did things like build a water trough and eventually a in door toilet and bath tub. I used as much knowledge as I had, and people came to me to hear stores of the future. I became known as a seerer and respected by both Indians and the whites. As time went on we saw our Indians ran out of the country or they became farmers.
We had two girls and lived as happy as anyone. When our girls got marred they brought our grandkids to see us. We lived simple poor but rich lives. After many years of happiness God call my angel home. It was 1904 and the world was changing, and one day I don't know if it was her heart or something else she had sit on my lap, laid her head on my shoulder and took her journey.
I buried her under a old tree we used to love to watch the birds play in. I felt so alone, I cried a lot. Then one day, just a few days ago I got into our canoe and went down the river. A huge storm came and again I was tossed out of the boat and woke up on the bank. Nothing is as I left it.
I went down a road to a modern house, it is 2019, I am old, I cannot explain this. The kind people called the law enforcement and I found my first wife had remarried and assumed me dead. I won't bother her, but seems I located one of my great grand kids. This is where I am at, odd they had no trouble believing me. I am a poor very rich man.
So now you know, and I am sure you think I have made this up. That's ok, I find it hard to believe too.