The Adventures of Cherokee

by Nancy Johnson

  “Yes,” she answered him thoughtfully. “But what could that mean?”

  “We will have to think about that some more,” thought Cherokee out loud.

  “Did Grandfather say anything else?” asked Sunee.

  “Yes,” said Cherokee. He said we are to name one of our sons Too hool’ zoout.”

  “Too hool’ zoout? What does that mean?” she asked.

  “He says it means ‘thunder on the mountain’ in Nez Perce. He said that our son will be special some day in a place far from where he is born.”

  “Who are the Nez Perce?” she asked.

  “When I asked Grandfather, he said they are another tribe of Indians who speak a different language from us. He has met and made friends with some of the horses of those Indians.”

  “What do we name the other son?” Sunee wondered out loud.

  “Grandfather says that you will have a name for him.”

  “I have no names at all, but I will think of one. Perhaps the other mares can help me with an appropriate name. If one son is to be special, perhaps the other will be, too, and he must be named accordingly. You have given me much to think about Cherokee.”

  It was a peaceful time for all the horses. Spring rains brought sweet new grass and flowers. Birds sang happy songs while they built nests on leafy tree branches. De wa, flying squirrels, chattered happily as they made homes inside the

  same trees. Sunee’s birthing time was near.

  Very early one sunny morning, Sunee felt uncomfortable and seemed quite unable to walk. She called out to Tamaga, the mare who had promised to help her. “Tamaga? I don’t think I feel very well. I need an ni si di, a place to lie down. What should I do?”

  All the mares were excited about new foals coming and wanted to help, but Tamaga had already staked her claim in assisting their new friend. She trotted to Sunee’s side and said, “Come, follow me. It is not far that you will have to walk. You can do it.”

  “Can we not help?” asked one mare. “She is having di ni tla wa, twins. We would like to help.” Tamaga just shook her head.

  Tamaga took her to an isolated deer thicket just out of sight from the herd and any possible dangers. Sunee’s head was drooping low to the ground and her belly was beginning to hurt just a little. “I am frightened,” she whispered.

  “You will be just fine,” encouraged Tamaga.

  “Do you know how your babies lay in your belly? Do you know how they are protected until they are born? Do you know how they are born?”

  “No,” whispered Sunee. “I don’t know any of

  that.”

  Because Tamaga wanted to keep Sunee’s mind occupied on anything other than the contractions, she began to talk to her. “Well, the Great Spirit allows the baby to grow in a protected sack in you belly. It is connected to you by a cord. This is how you feed him so he will grow strong and make eyes and lungs and legs and everything. He gets exercise by moving around in that sack before he is born.”

  “How does he get out of the sack when he is born?” asked Sunee.

  “Your baby will be born with his head resting on his front feet and his little hooves will break the sack when he is born. The Great Spirit has made all the right plans for your son to be born safely.”

  “But I am having two sons,” said Sunee.

  “And I don’t have a name for the second one!”

  “You are being twice blessed, Sunee. The Great Spirit has led you to us so we can help you with your new family. Don’t worry about anything. You will be fine and a name will come when it is time.”

  “Wa do, Tamaga. Thank you. Has anyone told Cherokee that he is soon to be a father?” worried Sunee.

  “I am sure that Ε tsi has already made him aware of your birthing day,” answered Tamaga with a smile.

  For a long time they did not talk. Sunee paced back and forth, head low to the ground, swaying right and left for many hours. Soon she began to bend her knees preparing to lay down.

  “That’s right, Sunee,” encouraged Tamaga. “Lie down and soon your children will be here for you to love.”

  Tamaga was right. In no time, the first pair of feet and a little black nose appeared. The sack was broken just as she said. Sunee stood, swaying and cleaned her son with her tongue, drying him and loving him and talking to him. “Your name will be Too hool’ zoout,” she whispered to him. Her strength was almost gone, so again she lay down on the soft grass in the deer thicket.

  In just a little while a second set of feet and another little black nose appeared. Sunee called on all her remaining strength and stood. After getting her balance she cleaned and talked to her second son, encouraging him with her voice.

  It was not long until both colts tried to stand. Back legs up, front legs down. Front legs up and back legs down. It took great effort just to stand, but they were hungry and tried very hard. Tamaga encouraged the two young colts, nudging them with her nose until they finally gained their feet, swaying, blinking their eyes and trying to get used to this new world they had just entered. Finally they were able to take a few steps. Finding their way to Sunee’s under belly, they began to nurse. When he had enough, Too hool’ zoout, walked carefully to his mother’s face and nuzzled her. The other colt dropped under her belly and slept.

  “Will you tell Cherokee that he has two healthy sons?” asked Sunee.

  “Of course,” agreed Tamaga. “Do you have a name for the second son?”

  “I will call him Kangi ta,” she said.

  “That is a good name,” said Tamaga. “That means ‘raven’ and he is all black with no white on him at all.”

  “I call him Kangi ta because he reminds me of his father. Cherokee has the mark of the raven on his shoulder.”

  “Ahhh. I will go tell him for you.”

  It seemed to Cherokee that having a baby took an exceptionally long time. Ε tsi told him when Sunee was moved to the thicket, but did not tell him where the thicket was, so he had no way of keeping an eye on her or the place. He did not like that but the mares had told him they were much better with birthing than he was, so he accepted

  their superior attitude.

  “Cherokee,” called Ε tsi. He was grazing as close to the herd as they would allow, and he heard her at once. He raised his head, eyes bright, ears pointed. “Come,” she said. “Meet your sons.”

  Cherokee followed Ε tsi to the thicket. “Go through there,” she whispered.

  He took a slow careful step into the thick branches and vines. Sunee was lying down with their di ni tla wa, twins, close beside her. “Sunee,” he said quietly.

  “Come and meet your sons, Cherokee,” she invited. “You have two healthy boys. One is called Too hool’ zoout, as instructed by Grandfather. I have called the other Kangi Ta, for you.”

  “Raven?” he asked.

  “Yes. Because of the three feathers of the raven on your leg and because it is the sign of growing.”

  Cherokee lowered his head to nuzzle his sons, breathing in their baby smell. “Wa do, Great Spirit, he prayed, “Thank you for my sons and the

  safe keeping of Sunee. Grant me the strength to protect them and the knowledge to teach them to live in balance with the earth.”

  -14-

  Tso tsi da na wa, The Enemy

  Natas had a plan. Standing at the highest point he could find, he watched the herd of mares below him. He was well hidden in thick leafy trees, so none of the horses could see him. Most were grazing peacefully, some dozing in the summer sun. Two young colts were sleeping near Sunee. He could see their tails swishing every now and then, as though chasing away flies. Cherokee was nowhere to be seen.

  “Now would be a good time to steal the mares. I can race down there and surprise them. Ε tsi will not fight me. Only Cherokee would do that and he is not here.” He pawed his
right hoof in the dirt several times, snorted, and bobbed his head up and down. Finding a path that had been made and used by deer and other wild creatures, he trotted down the hill toward the mares and colts.

  Natas had not gone far when he heard a soft “Whuff.” He stopped short and looked around to see what had made the sound. It was Cherokee.

  “What are you doing?” asked Cherokee.

  “I am going to claim those mares as mine,” said the red stallion.

  “No, you are not,” said Cherokee sternly.

  “You can’t stop me,” replied Natas.

  “I can try,” promised Cherokee.

  “Where did you come from?” Natas asked Cherokee.

  “I’ve been watching you all morning. You have not been as well hidden as you thought. You leave a great number of ways to track you. You break leaves and branches, you walk always in soft dirt and you are noisy. If you want to hide, you need to change your ways.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” pouted Natas. “I am going after the mares,” he shouted as he took off running down the hill.

  “And I said you are not,” yelled Cherokee following him.

  Both horses moved quickly down the winding trail. Sometimes trotting, sometimes galloping, sometimes sliding, they reached the bottom in very short order. Natas tried to outrun Cherokee, but the young pinto stallion moved up quickly to the big horses’s side and slammed into him, knocking him off balance.

  Natas turned angrily. Baring his teeth he started for Cherokee, planning to bite him wherever he could reach. Cherokee twisted to the right and kicked hard with his hind feet. Natas moved quickly out of his way. Both horses turned toward each other and rearing up on hind legs, pawed the air, trying to land the first blow.

  By this time the mares were aware of what was happening. The colts, too, were interested. When they tried to get closer to the fighting stallions, Sunee stepped in between them and the horses.

  “Oh, Ε tsi!” said Sunee. “Natas is much bigger than Cherokee. Perhaps he will be hurt.”

  “Cherokee walks the white path. Natas walks the red path. I believe that good will always triumph over evil. Cherokee also has two sons to protect. Don’t worry about him. Whatever happens, he will do his best.”

  “But what will we do if Natas hurts Cherokee?”

  “Then we will be expected to be his mares and go where he leads us. We will have to do his bidding.”

  “But he is not nice,” whispered Sunee.

  “It doesn’t matter,” continued Ε tsi. “That is the way we must live.”

  Meanwhile the stallions were battling even harder. They were kicking and biting and screaming at each other. For a while Natas had the upper hand. Then Cherokee would get in a good kick making the big horse grunt in pain. Natas was big, but Cherokee was young and strong. Blood began to fly from wounds inflicted upon both horses. It seemed they would fight forever.

  Kangi ta whispered, “Momma, who are those horses? Why are they fighting?”

  “I know!” answered Too hool’ zoout. “That’s our daddy fighting the red horse. He can beat him, I know.”

  “Boys,” warned Sunee. “Fighting is not a good thing. It is only done to save your own life or the life of another.”

  “So, is Daddy trying to save his own life?” asked Kangi ta.

  “No,” said Sunee. “He is trying to save the herd and keep them free.”

  “But you said...”

  “Saving the herd means that Ε tsi can still be our mother protector. That our lives will stay peaceful and friendly. It means that we do not want Natas to be our leader.”

  “And can Daddy do that?” asked Kangi ta.

  “Of course he can,” said Too hool’ zoout,” with confidence. “Our daddy can do anything.”

  Sunee smiled to herself. She watched with concern as the stallions fought and kicked at each other, but she felt more confident about Cherokee winning. Her sons had confidence in their father,

  so she should, too.

  The stallions were getting tired. Every now and then they would back off, hang their heads and breathe heavily, trying to get more air in their lungs. Cherokee gained his strength back first, and gathering all his muscle and determination, he raced for the big horse, whirled and using both hind feet, kicked him in the left side with everything he had.

  Natas fell hard to the ground.

  “Get up!” said Cherokee.

  “Can’t.” gasped Natas.

  “Try.” said Cherokee.

  “Wait a while,” asked Natas.

  “No. You get up now and leave. We don’t want you here any more. All you do is cause trouble. You are mean to all of us. Grandfather told us you were backward, and I think I know what that means, now. Your name isn’t Natas. It’s Satan!”

  “How do you know?” asked Natas as he began to stand up.

  “Your attitude for one thing. No one can be as mean as you have been unless you are something bad.”

  “I’m not always bad and I don’t belong to anyone,” explained Natas.

  “But you did at one time,” answered Cherokee. “Anyway it doesn’t matter anymore. You go away from this place and don’t ever return. You will never know where I am. I will always see you if you come in to this valley from any where. These mares and colts will always be protected from you. By me and by Grandfather and his many friends.”

  Natas was standing now. “I will go now,” he said, “But I will return. You cannot always be here,” he added as he shook the dust from his body.

  Cherokee watched him limp away, saying nothing more, knowing that the words the red stallion spoke were empty ones. He would not be back.

  The colts raced up to their father. “Are you

  hurt, Daddy? Can we help you?”

  “No, sons,” answered the young stallion. “The fight is over and the herd is safe. So are you and your mother. We will not have to worry about him anymore. Let’s go see your mother, Sunee.”

  Trotting happily along side their father, the colts accompanied him first to the stream where he got a long drink of water and then to see Sunee. Cherokee was tired, but he wanted to talk to her first.

  Sunee watched him walk toward her. He was bleeding from bites and cuts from the other stallion’s teeth and hoof marks. But he held his head up and walked proudly.

  “Hello, Cherokee,” she said softly. “Thank you for chasing Natas away for us. He was bad.”

  “Yes, now you and the other mares can live in peace. I am going to stretch out on the ground near the forest to rest. I will come back this evening and graze with you.”

  The colts watched their parents as they talked. They wanted to stay with their father, but when he said he was going to rest, they decided they did not want to sleep, so they trotted off looking for something to do.

  Kangi ta trotted a little way behind his brother in silence for a while. Then he said, “Your name is too hard to say. I am going to call you Thunder.”

  “That’s not my name,” replied Too hool zoout.

  “Well, that’s what it means in Nez Perce. Momma said!”

  “Daddy won’t like it,” warned the colt.

  “We’ll just ask him when he wakes up,” said Kangi ta. “You can call me Raven, if you like,” he offered.

  “I don’t have any trouble saying Kangi ta,” Thunder replied haughtily.

  “Ha wa,” agreed Kangi ta. “Alright”. “Where are we going?”

  It seemed that Thunder always took the lead. He was always ahead when they went exploring, always the winner in their play fights.

  “I don’t know,” answered Thunder. “Got any

  place in mind?”

  “No,” sighed Kangi ta.

  “Let’s go over that hill and see what we can find,” suggested hi
s brother.

  Kangi ta nipped Thunder in the rump and said, “Yes, let’s race!” And off he went. Thunder squealed and took off after him at a gallop.

  -15-

  O gi na li I, Old Friend

  The next morning dawned bright and beautiful. Summer was full upon them and the colts were growing strong and healthy. Sunee found that twins were more than a handful and she was glad for the help of the other mares in caring for them. It seemed that what one of them couldn’t think of the other one did and they were running off all the time. “It is time for lessons,” she thought to herself.

  Thunder and Kangi ta bounded up to their mother, out of breath, both talking at once.

  “Momma,” they said in unison.

  “One at a time, please,” suggested Sunee.

  “Momma,” said Kangi ta. “I can’t say Too hool zoout very well. Can I call my brother Thunder instead?”

  “Well, I will have to think about that. What did your father say?”

  “We haven’t asked him yet,” said Kangi ta.

  “If you call your brother Thunder, what will he call you?” asked Sunee.

  “He can call me Raven,” suggested Kangi ta.

  “I can say Kangi ta,” said Thunder proudly. I don’t have any trouble with words.”

  “Let’s talk to your father the next time we see him. Since Grandfather suggested the name, he should decide.”

  “O.K.” said Kangi ta, leaping and jumping around Thunder.

  “Stop it,” said Thunder. “You leave me alone.”

  “Too hool zoout!” warned Sunee. “Don’t talk to your brother that way.”

  “He was bothering me, Momma,” replied the

  colt.

  “You must learn that others will reflect your mirror image. You must always have pleasant manners.”

  “Then tell Kangi ta to behave,” pouted Thunder.

  “Did he hurt you?” asked their mother.

  “Well, no. But he was being naughty.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you mad at me,” sighed Kangi ta. “I just want to go and play with you, Thunder. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”