The Carter Journals

by Shane Phipps

  Cody wrote about how the spirit of independence did not fade even after the war for independence was won. Then he described in great detail the story of the state of Franklin. He told of a group of people who had risked everything to uproot themselves and travel hundreds of miles west across towering, mountainous wilderness into a strange land filled with hardships and danger just to have an opportunity for the freedoms they sought. In their fight to maintain their independence, they had failed, but their story was the same at the heart of it—Americans have always had a spirit of independence.

  When Cody had finished his essay, he was surprised to see that he had more than doubled Mr. Foster’s two-page length requirement. He had never been the type to go beyond what he was supposed to do on an assignment. Strangely, he didn’t even really remember putting any real effort into his essay. As he read it back to himself, it seemed like someone else had written it. It sounded good in his head as he read silently—really good. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, and Cody turned in his essay, he noticed that most of the other kids in the class had barely filled one side of their paper.

  The next morning at school, Mr. Foster flagged down Cody in the hall and motioned for him to come and see him. Cody followed the teacher into his classroom and sat down.

  “Cody, I just wanted to talk to you about the essay you wrote yesterday. I wanted to tell you that I am most impressed,” Mr. Foster said. “The way you laid out the facts about how America has always had a spirit of independence was excellent. You cited all the right things that drove America towards a Declaration of Independence and a war for independence. It was all done very well. I was not surprised that you were able to explain that. I was surprised by something, however.”

  Uh oh, thought Cody. Am I in some sort of trouble? Does he think I cheated somehow, or plagiarized?

  “The end of your essay was most interesting to me,” continued his teacher. “The way you paralleled the story of the state of Franklin with the beginning of your essay about the Pilgrims and Puritans was not only very well done, it was also news to me. I have a master’s degree and have been teaching many years, yet I’ve never heard the story of the state of Franklin. Where did you learn about this?”

  Cody almost started telling his teacher how he traveled back in time and entered the bodies of his long-dead teenage ancestors. Just as he was about to do it, he stopped himself. I can’t tell him that, he thought. He’ll think I’m nuts. He would probably march me right down to the office and have me tested for drugs! Cody paused a moment and decided to play it safe.

  “I have family roots in that area,” Cody answered. “My grandfather lives in Hawkins County, Tennessee. He gave me some information to read, and I learned that area was a part of the state of Franklin. When I found out about that, I just started doing some more research about it. I thought it was cool that there was a whole state once that I hadn’t even heard of and that some of my family is from there.”

  “I agree. I think it is cool, too,” said Mr. Foster. “I’ll let you get going so you won’t be late to class. I just wanted to compliment you on your excellent essay, and thank you for teaching something new to your old history teacher.”

  Cody thanked his teacher and headed off to math class with a little extra bounce in his step.

  On Friday night, after a busy week, Cody decided to sit down and start reading the next journal in his time line. He opened the old book and saw the title page: The Journal of Martin Carter…Indiana Territory…1811. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. He recalled that his dad had mentioned his one journal experience, the one that he could not handle, had taken place in the Indiana Territory. Was this the journal that had shaken up his father years ago? What kind of experience could have caused his dad to give up on the entire family tradition? Unsettled, Cody was tempted to skip this journal and go to the next one, but he realized that he just had to know. Plus, he had just a touch of obsessive-compulsiveness that drove him to do things in the proper order. To leave this chronology at this point, he knew, would only drive him batty. No, he decided, he simply must forge ahead.

  He nervously turned the page and began to read.…

  My name is Martin Carter. I am fourteen years old. I live near Fort Knox, along the banks of the Wabash River in the Indiana Territory. My mother died of smallpox before I was two years old. I live with my father, Samuel. He works as an aide and adviser for Governor William Harrison.…

  As he read these words, Cody once again felt the familiar swimming sensation in his head and the butterflies dancing in his stomach. When he opened his eyes, he was standing outside a large brick home. The house was impressive, with white columns bracketing a stately two-story front porch. One end of the house was rounded with paneled windows and black shutters. Nearby, on Cody’s left, flowed a large river.

  Built in 1804, this two-story brick house was home to Governor William Henry Harrison and his family in Vincennes, Indiana, through the end of the War of 1812. This photo, ca. mid- to late-1800s, shows the house very much as it looked in 1811. (Jay Small Postcard Collection, P 0391, Indiana Historical Society)

  Cody saw a man motion to him from the front porch of the large house. Cody began to walk toward the house, and the man spoke. “Come, Martin, I have a message for you to deliver to your father,” the man said.

  “Y-y-yes, sir,” replied Cody uncertainly.

  Cody suddenly realized he must be standing before Governor William Henry Harrison. Who else would have such a fine house as this? Cody was visualizing a mental checklist of the famous people he had now met—Daniel Boone … check; Dragging Canoe … check; John Sevier … check; Governor (and future president) William Henry Harrison … check—unbelievable!

  When Cody reached the steps of the porch, the man was reaching into a pocket inside his jacket. He removed an envelope and handed it to Cody. “Take this to your father. Tell him that I am arranging a meeting of my staff. It is all explained in the letter.”

  Cody looked at the envelope. It was sealed closed with a dollop of wax that had been stamped with Governor Harrison’s seal. “I will take it to him straight away, sir,” Cody said.

  “Thank you, Martin,” Harrison replied.

  But which way to go to find Martin’s father? Cody knew from the journal that Martin’s family lived along the Wabash River, so he decided to follow the river and see where it led. After a short distance, he drew near a modest frame house. As he approached, a man exited the front door and greeted him. “Hello, son!”

  Cody was relieved. The man must be Samuel Carter. “I have a message from the governor,” he said.

  “Let’s have it then,” said Samuel. They entered the house, and Samuel took the note to a writing desk near a window in the far corner of the room.

  “Governor Harrison says he needs you to come to a meeting,” Cody said. “What is it about?”

  “Calm down there, son,” Samuel replied. “I haven’t even had time to open this yet.”

  Cody watched as the man carefully broke the seal and unfolded the note. After reading for a moment, Samuel spoke again. “Harrison says Tecumseh has gone south and left his brother in charge at Tippecanoe. He says he wants to discuss a plan he has to take advantage of Tecumseh’s absence. We will meet tomorrow morning.”

  Overlooking the Wabash River near Vincennes, Indiana, Fort Knox consisted of a few buildings surrounded by a palisade fence. The fort provided the settlers with protection as tensions increased between the Native Americans and American settlers just before the War of 1812. (Jay Small Postcard Collection, P 0391, Indiana Historical Society)

  Suddenly, Cody felt his head swimming once again and sensed everything beginning to go dark. A curtain seemed to open before him, and he found himself back in his bedroom. He sat there for a moment mulling over what he had just been through. “I just met one of the presidents of the United States,” he muttered in disbelief. “Of course, he hadn’t been president yet, but still.…” Cody wondered what tra
umatic event might be awaiting him in this journal. Something in this journal had disturbed his dad—that was for sure—but what?

  Chapter 12

  Cody was very intrigued with this new journal for a couple of reasons. First, there was the issue of whatever it was that lay ahead that had disturbed his father so much. That unknown was hanging like a thick fog in Cody’s brain. He was more than a little nervous about it. This whole journal had a rather ominous feel to it anyway, for reasons that Cody couldn’t put his finger on yet. Though the unknown prospects of this journal were more than a little frightening, they were also exciting. The adventurer’s fire deep inside of Cody had been stoked a great deal since he had first begun this exercise. He had been through enough now to make him think he could stand up in the face of anything the journals could throw at him. He was ready to move ahead—or at least he had convinced himself that he was ready.

  Since it was still rather early on a Friday night, he decided to dive right back in. He found the next entry in the journal and began to read.…

  I was hunting along the Wabash a couple miles upriver from Governor Harrison’s mansion, Grouseland, when I ran across my Shawnee friend Sitting Fox.…

  Cody’s head swam and the butterflies danced in his stomach. When he came to, he was standing by a river holding a rifle. He was wearing buckskin clothing, and he stood face to face with a half-naked Indian boy who appeared to be about the same age as Martin, probably fourteen or fifteen. The boy wore buckskin leggings but was shirtless. The boy was strikingly handsome. His face was narrow with sharp features, and his eyes were almost coal black and perfectly symmetrical. His jet-black hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail that swung down between his shoulder blades. The boy was holding not a gun but a bow, and a quiver full of arrows was slung over his left shoulder. Around the boy’s neck hung a leather necklace from which hung a small beaded pouch.

  Cody knew this must be Sitting Fox. “Hello, Sitting Fox,” he said.

  “Martin, it does me good to see you,” said Sitting Fox. “For the past two moons I have been with a hunting party led by my brother, Long Bow. We are returning now from the area where the Beautiful River flows into the Father of the Waters. I separated myself from the rest of the party so that I might come and see you. Soon, I must hurry off and rejoin my party as we return to Tenskwatawa’s village on the Tippecanoe-se-pe.”

  Cody realized that “se-pe” must mean river—sort of like Missis-si-ppi. He remembered that the Mississippi River had been called “Father of the Waters” by some native people. Was the “Beautiful River” Sitting Fox mentioned the Ohio River, which flowed into the Mississippi?

  “How was the hunting?” he asked Sitting Fox.

  “We did not have the success we had hoped for. The settlers in Cain-tuck-ee have killed much of the game that once was so plentiful there. That is why we went farther toward the setting sun in search of game. Even in those lands, we saw many signs of the settlers’ presence. I can tell you, Martin my brother, my people are not happy. My brother speaks much of the treaties of your Chief Harrison. He says the treaties are worthless. He says that the Indians give up much, and the white man gives up little, then the white man just takes more and makes a new treaty, each more worthless than the last. Our great Chief Tecumseh says there will be no treaty with his name upon it. He goes now into the lands far below Cain-tuck-ee—to the lands of our fathers. He goes to unite all the Indian tribes to stand against Chief Harrison. Tecumseh says he has tried to come to the peace council and reason with your chief, but he will not listen. I fear, my brother, that a great war will be upon us soon.”

  Tecumseh (1768–1813), a Shawnee warrior, met with Governor William Henry Harrison on several occasions to discuss the United States’ forced removal of Native American tribes westward. Tecumseh and his brother Tenskwatawa, also known as the Prophet, organized a large alliance from many different tribes to stand against the Americans. (Notable Hoosiers Collection, DC010, Indiana Historical Society)

  In this speech to Governor William Henry Harrison, Tecumseh states that the killing of Native Americans in America’s ruthless pursuit of their lands would no longer be tolerated. (Indiana Historical Society)

  “I wish our people could get along as you and I do,” said Cody.

  “My heart fears that it is too late for that, my brother,” replied Sitting Fox.

  Cody was quiet for a moment, looking at his friend. He noticed a necklace Sitting Fox was wearing. “What is that pouch that hangs around your neck?” he asked.

  “That is my pa-waw-ka. This pouch holds the symbol of my passage to manhood. I will wear it until the day that I die,” answered Sitting Fox.

  “What is your pa-waw-ka? When did you get it? Who gave it to you?” Cody said.

  “No one gave it to me. I had to earn it,” said Sitting Fox, as he opened the little beaded pouch and pulled out a small, shiny stone. “To you, this looks like a stone, but to me, and to my people, it is much more. It represents my inner fire. I had to suffer much to earn my pa-waw-ka. Each morning for four moons I had to get up before dawn, strip naked, and plunge myself into the cold waters of the Tippecanoe-se-pe. All Shawnee warriors must endure this. It is always done in the months when the snow flies. Earning a pa-waw-ka is supposed to be very hard to do. There were many mornings when I did not think I would live through it—mornings when I had to break through thick ice with a club and tomahawk just to be able to go into the water below. The coldest of all was the final day, when I was permitted to finally grab up my pa-waw-ka. On that morning, I was led to the river. Other men had broken open a hole in the ice, and I was told that I must jump into the water four times on that day. On the fourth dive, I went all the way to the bottom and retrieved my pa-waw-ka.”

  “Did someone place it there for you to find?” asked Cody.

  “No man did. No one knows what a young man’s pa-waw-ka will be. The Great Spirit, Weshemoneto, provides each young man’s pa-waw-ka. We must dive to the bottom and scoop up whatever he provides. This is what I scooped up that morning—this is my pa-waw-ka,” said Sitting Fox, holding up the shiny black stone. “This is the essence of who I am. No man can take this from me. I can brave the fiercest battle, last through starving times, even stay warm in the coldest winter, because I have my pa-waw-ka.”

  “It’s beautiful,” said Cody.

  Cody could hardly imagine having to go through such an ordeal as Sitting Fox had just described. The very thought of getting up before dawn every morning through four months of bitter cold winter and dunking yourself into an ice-cold river—all for a chance at a rock to carry around your neck. On the surface, the whole idea seemed silly. Yet, something deep inside Cody could not help but feel envious. There was nothing at all like this in his own culture. He thought it would be very cool to have something like that to accomplish in order to become a man.

  For the next couple of hours, the friends talked and laughed, swam in the Wabash, and attempted in vain to shoot fish with Sitting Fox’s bow and arrow. Then Sitting Fox suddenly became serious again.

  “The hour grows late; I must hurry off and rejoin my brother and the hunting party. He would not be happy with me if he knew I was here, so near Chief Harrison’s village. He does not understand my friendship with you—I cannot make him understand.”

  Cody could feel Sitting Fox’s sadness. “Perhaps one day our people will find a common ground and live in harmony,” he said.

  “I pray that day will come,” answered Sitting Fox.

  With that, Sitting Fox was off like a flash, heading north toward his village. As he watched Sitting Fox bound off into the distance, Cody suddenly felt the return of the swimming sensation in his head. The next thing he knew, he was back in his bedroom.

  Cody remembered that his history textbook mentioned Tecumseh, so he picked up the book and thumbed through it. He learned that Tenskwatawa was better known to the whites as “The Prophet” and was the younger brother of the great Shawnee leader Tecumseh. He r
ead that The Prophet was a spiritual leader who preached to the Shawnee that they needed to turn away from their dependence on the white man’s ways.

  Cody wondered how much Sitting Fox agreed with the teachings of Tenskwatawa. He had genuinely liked Sitting Fox. He hated that the white settlers and the natives were having such troubles. He even found himself longing for a pa-waw-ka of his own. He wasn’t at all sure he liked where this journal seemed to be heading.

  Chapter 13

  Cody had a fitful night’s sleep. He tossed and turned, drifting between dream-filled stints of restless sleep and frustrating periods when he stared at his bedroom ceiling deep in nagging thoughts. He had felt the closeness between Martin Carter and Sitting Fox, and that meant he felt as if Sitting Fox was his friend. He also sensed the uneasiness of their relationship—the forbidden nature of it.

  Cody was not so naïve to think that he lived in perfect times where everyone got along. He realized that there was still racism and bigotry in his twenty-first century world. He understood that people still sometimes had difficulty seeing eye-to-eye when cultures clashed. Yet, in his day-to-day life, things seemed to be much more civil than all of this. On any given day at school, Cody hung out with kids from different cultural backgrounds. He had friends who were African American, Asian, and Hispanic. He even had friends who claimed to have Native American ancestry. Everyone seemed to be able to find enough common ground to get along and be friends.

  So why did Martin Carter and Sitting Fox have such a challenging friendship? Why, in 1811, did it seem so impossible for two boys just to hang out together and be friends? Cody could not get his mind around these questions. The whole situation frustrated him. He wanted to be able to do something about it.