Read an Excerpt
Dalton's Dream
My Ancestors Sailed From Scotland in the mid 1700's
By Paula Jones AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2013 Paula Jones
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4817-4991-6
CHAPTER 1
Come and let me take you on a great journey into my dream ...
In my dream, I woke up suddenly to the sound of a gunshot and loud, rushing water. I looked around me in amazement. I didn't know where I was—but I knew it wasn't Florida. There was snow on the ground and lots of bare trees, with snow piled on the branches, and a partially frozen stream. I thought of Dorothy, in The Wizard of Oz, saying, "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore." From across the stream, a young boy holding a rifle had spotted me sitting under the tree. I'm sure I stood out, with my bright-red soccer outfit and socks that I had put on earlier for practice. I would be an easy target as I stood out against the white snow, bare trees, and gray, cloudy sky. The boy crossed over the stream on a log, balancing himself with outstretched arms, holding his rifle in one hand and the turkey he had just shot in the other. He walked up the deep, snowy hill and just stood over me, staring, and I stared back. He was wearing torn pants and shirt, with suspenders peeking out from a heavy jacket, knee-high boots, and a fur hat with a raccoon tail. He looked just as amazed as I did.
Who was he, and where was I? After we broke our stare, I spoke first and asked his name. He said he was John Knox Bain, from Smithville, Tennessee. This was shocking, as I had just read in our family history book that John Knox Bain was my fourth grandfather, who had been born in 1827. I couldn't believe I was meeting him. We both continued to stare at each other, blinking our eyes and shaking our heads in disbelief.
John asked me what my name was and where I came from. I told him my name was Dalton Cole Wright and that I lived in Lakewood Ranch, Florida, which wasn't far from Tennessee. John said he has never left the farm, except to go into the local town of Nashville for some supplies. Then John asked what I had in my hand. I told him it was a cell phone my mother had given me for Christmas. "What's a cell phone?" he asked. I told him that when I wanted to speak with a friend who was not near me, I could push some buttons on the phone, which would connect me with my friend. Or I could text my friend a message. I tried calling my brother, Roman, to show John how it worked; however, I remembered there weren't any cellular towers—duh! John's eyes were wide, and he had a perplexed look on his face.
John picked up the turkey he had shot, and we began to walk through the family graveyard. He pointed out family members, especially those who had died in childbirth, which was common in those days due to lack of medical technology. I told him people who had died during the nineteenth century could be cured with a simple pill in my time. We had so many questions, and I was hoping I would not wake up before I had heard everything! I told John how I'd been reading my Aunt Paula's family history book and had fallen asleep to wake up sitting under a tree in the snow, when I'd heard the gunshot.
John was staring at my clothes. He informed me that only women wore colored clothing, and he laughed. I told him that boys wear all the colors of the rainbow, and it is the style in the twenty-first century; however, I was wearing my soccer uniform because I was going to practice for a tournament. He asked what the number fifteen was for, and I told him that when we play soccer, each player has a number on his shirt.
He said it was his birthday, and I asked how old he was. He said twelve, and he told me he had killed the turkey for his birthday dinner. I asked what day and year it was, and he replied that it was December 1, 1839. I jumped back and said, "Wow ... that's 161 years before I was born! My birthday is also December 1, but I was born in the year 2000. This is so cool." Our conversation was so energetic, and our questions kept overlapping. I was thinking that my mother and brother were going to wonder where I was. I was mesmerized, enjoying my dream, and was wondering when I would wake up.
John asked me whether I was hungry, and I sure was. We crossed the open snowy field, which looked like a winter wonderland. I had never seen snow before. I saw icicles hanging from the trees as we headed for his log cabin, which I could see in the distance. We continued to fire questions at each other. I was still surprised that I didn't feel the cold. I told John, "Did you know I can tell your future ... who you will marry, and how many children you will have—and that you will enlist in the American Civil War in 1861, when you are thirty-four years old, along with your brothers?" John anxiously wanted to know more. I continued, telling him, "A favorite family story is the one when you were responsible to hunt for food for your unit in the Civil War, and you went deep into the woods in heavy snow, hunting for squirrels. You only shot eleven, but you needed twelve for your unit. You shot one rat and cooked it with the squirrels, and no one ever knew. All the men praised you for a delicious meal. And in 1881, forty-two years from now, you will travel with your family by covered wagon from Smithville, Tennessee, to Hot Springs, Arkansas. That will take about four months, whereas in my day, it would only take about seven hours by car."
"What's a car?" John asked.
"It's an improvement on the wagon, only it moves without horses and mules. The wheels are covered with rubber, so it moves very smoothly, even over dirt roads and rocky terrain. It was invented in the early 1900s by Henry Ford. It goes very fast, and you get to where you're going much quicker than the days, weeks, or months it would take by wagon. There's so much that has been invented in the past 174 years: like the telephone, television, airplanes, and even people traveling to the moon in a rocket ship and landing on the moon." Well, John really got interested now, and he wanted to know how that was possible. I explained as much as I knew from my science teacher and books I had read and, of course, the Internet.
Do you go to school?" I asked John.
He said, "No, but we have a schoolhouse next to our cabin, and my mother is the teacher. There are ten children in the class, of all ages. It's only one room and only girls. Boys are not required to go to school, as we are needed to help our fathers do the planting, harvesting, and hunting." I then asked if he played any sports. John looked confused and then shook his head to say no. Then he asked me whether I did.
I told him, "I'm on a soccer team, and my older brother, Roman, plays basketball."
John asked, "What's soccer and basketball?" We stopped, and I took a stick and drew an image in the snow to show him. He asked if we could play soccer after dinner. I was having so much fun and couldn't wait to tell Roman, my mother and father, and my soccer team. I was glad we were on Christmas break. I wouldn't have to worry about when I would wake up or whether I would be late for school.
We arrived at John's cabin, and I slowly went through the door, feeling very strange. My head moved in slow motion as I looked around the one large room with hand- hewn wooden floors, ceiling beams, a couple of beds made from logs off to the side, an open fireplace with a hanging kettle at the far end, and stairs leading to a loft. The cabin was completely made out of the local trees. It was a real log cabin like the one I had seen in our family history book. John handed the turkey to his mother, who was standing at a wooden table kneading biscuit dough, and introduced me. His father and brothers had gone into Nashville for supplies and would be returning soon. His two sisters were sitting in the corner, sewing. They all stared at me, and only the mother spoke. She asked John who I was and where I had come from. He explained to her that I had appeared in my dream and came from the twenty-first century. She had a perplexed look on her face, and it seemed too much for her to comprehend, but she welcomed me.
John told her that he was my fourth grandfather and that we had the same birthday and were both twelve years old today. A soft smile came across her face, and she went back to preparing the turkey. As I looked around the kitchen area, I was thinking of our kitchen in Florida, with all the convenient gadgets my mother had for cooking. Watching John's mother cook without running water and chop vegetables, I wished I could send over our plumber and give her a Cuisinart!
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Dalton's Dream by Paula Jones. Copyright © 2013 Paula Jones. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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