American Dreams Trilogy

by Michael Phillips

  It was several years before the terms of this policy began to be known among the Cherokee. But as Jefferson’s plan was seen for what it was, it gradually split the Cherokee nation apart. Some welcomed the offer of new lands as a new chance to return to the old ways and not worry about encroaching settlement. Others resented it as the final insult of a government determined to be rid of them forever.

  Changing times, as it always does, brought new figures of leadership to the fore, rising out of the same lineages of chiefs that had gone to their fathers. As Cherokee politics had essentially been dominated for most of the eighteenth century by the Moytoy, Attacullaculla, and Oconostota dynasty, now began to rise a powerful new family out of the old that would itself grow into a new dynasty symbolizing the new times of the American nation. It descended from Attacullaculla through his son Tah-Chee.

  In 1771 was born to the son of Attacullaculla’s grandson Oganosta and his wife, Sehoya, a child called Nung-noh-nut-tar-hee, or the Pathkiller, who later changed his name to Kah-nung-da-tla-geh, the Man Who Walks the Mountain. Another boy was born called Oowatie, the Ancient One. By the time they were young men, the former was simply known as The Ridge. The brother patriarchs of a powerful Cherokee family were in the making. Though in his early years, The Ridge was a violent traditionalist opposed to accommodation with the ways of the white man or relinquishment of tribal lands, his son and two nephews would come to symbolize the transition of the Cherokee into American culture. Oowatie and his wife were converted to Christianity, adopted many ways of the whites, and took the Christian names Christian David and Susanna Charity with Watie as surname. The lineage of those two brothers would remain at the center of a half century of strife for the Cherokee.

  Eventually the conflict over whether to continue to sell their land to the government, or whether to fight to the death to preserve what was theirs, erupted into armed conflict within the Cherokee nation itself. Brother took up weapon against brother in the dispute. Whatever their differences in policy, Attacullaculla and Oconostota had managed to keep their people as one. But now murder and treachery spread through the nation, Cherokee against Cherokee, as a proud people fought to retain their heritage and their land before all was lost.

  Attacullaculla’s vision of peace and unity among his people seemed like a dream that would never again be realized.6

  Long Canoe and

  the Secret of the Cave

  1786-1816

  Nanye’hi Ward never forgot her pledge to Chief Attacullaculla. She kept the secret of his legacy in her heart, and the secret of the rings in an ancient hiding place of the Cherokee, high on the sacred mountain where she was certain they would not be found.

  Nor had she forgotten the aging chief’s words about the grandson of her cousin Dragging Canoe. The words the great Attacullaculla had spoken on the mountain, and the sacred trust he had placed in her hands, had been with her ever since: “You must pass on the legacy as I am passing it on to you… to one who will preserve the heritage and will treasure the unity of our people.”

  Many of their people said that the Great Spirit spoke through her. It was true that voices, feelings, and thoughts came to her that she could not account for by ordinary means. She first noticed it on the stormy day of the birth of her cousin Nakey’s second son. That was many years ago, only two years before Attacullaculla’s death. She had accompanied Nakey to the river where the naked infant had been baptized in hardiness. The moment the boy had cried out from the cold, a chill swept through Nanye’hi’s body. Almost the same instant, a distant rumble of thunder sounded. Even as Nakey lifted the dripping boy from the river, Nanye’hi glanced up to the peak of Oononhway shrouded in clouds and mist. Less than a year later, the great chief told her he felt the boy was destined to wisdom. Had the Great Spirit, even before, been telling her the same thing?

  Nanye’hi stared up at the mountain, now grown eerily silent. As they made their way back to the Cherokee town where Nakey lived with her husband, Alexander, Nanye’hi continued to ponder the strange events of the child’s water birth. Ever since that day, whenever she saw Nakey’s growing boy, the thumb on which she still wore the great chief’s ring tingled momentarily, and the far-off gaze of Long’s eyes reminded her of the rumble from Oononhway after his birth.

  She listened to the young boy’s every word as he grew. She observed him with piercing eyes. Many children of the Cherokee could claim closer relation to the great Ghigua. But never was one more devoted to the grandson of a cousin than was Nanye’hi Ward to young Long, son of Nakey Canoe, grandson of Dragging Canoe, as he grew into boyhood, then youth. He was a quiet boy, attentive to nature, to weather, to the ways of the animals. By the time he was twelve, he was considered a master cultivator of the earth, knew exactly when and where to plant maize and squash and many other crops, whose ways he had learned from his elders and the white man to get the best yield. It was obvious he would be a man of the earth, not a warrior like his fiery grandfather Dragging Canoe. But when at fifteen, he announced, though he loved and respected his white father, he had chosen to take to himself the name of his mother’s family rather than his father’s, out of respect for the heritage of his Cherokee roots and blood, Nanye’hi knew that the spirit of Attacullaculla had indeed chosen wisely. From that moment, she knew that the day would come when she would take the young man now known as Long Canoe to the top of the mountain as her uncle had taken her.

  Long Canoe grew and matured alongside his cousins Ridge and Oowatie and his more distant cousins Doublehead and Old Tassel. As one of these promising young leaders of the nation, the grandson of Dragging Canoe was selected along with a few other Cherokee young men to attend the white man’s college at Dartmouth with one of the scholarships given to a select group of Cherokee for educational advancement. During his time in the North, Long spent many hours studying the ways of his fellow men, both those with dark skin and those with light. By the time he reached manhood he had seen many changes come to his people and to the land they called home.

  Once the sovereignty of the new nation calling itself the United States of America was established by treaty with Great Britain in 1783, the most far reaching of the Cherokee knew that their hope for national sovereignty was dead. The thirteen colonies, now thirteen states of a new nation, were too powerful. Their expansion could not be stopped. They had defeated the most powerful nation on earth. They would not be stopped from taking anything they wanted.

  The first two decades of the nineteenth century were troublesome for the Cherokee nation. The Cherokee gradually split into two factions, both convinced that they represented the best for the future of their people. When Thomas Jefferson began to encourage a westward migration of Cherokee, the debate grew fierce about whether to relocate and leave lands their people had occupied for centuries, or whether to fight to preserve them.

  The divisive split came to a head in 1808 when Chief Doublehead signed an agreement to move west. When the hard-liners learned of the agreement, Doublehead was brutally murdered by his own kinsmen, the death blow being struck by none other than The Ridge. A break in the Cherokee nation had begun that would not be fully healed for many generations.

  In spite of the danger from his fellow tribesmen, another chief, Tahlonteskee, took a band of 1,100 Chickamauga Cherokees west to the land provided them in the Arkansas Territory. The peoples of this first migration of Cherokee would later be known as the Old Settlers, and, though danger from their own people remained high, many would join them. A western migration of families and small groups continued. The hostility between the two factions of Cherokee intensified. Those who sold their lands continued to be in danger of assassination by their own people.

  The dispute grieved the heart of aging Nanye’hi Ward, now a stately woman of seventy-six, whose life spanned an era of much change in the fortunes of her people. She knew the time was approaching when she must do her duty to posterity.7

  Long Canoe returned from Dartmouth, his view of the world broader,
his toleration for peoples of diverse backgrounds widened, and his love of his own Cherokee roots deeper. In his absence, the dispute between those advocating removal to the West and those vowing to remain in the East and fight to the death to retain their lands had grown more bitter than ever.

  A major campaign against the Creeks was waged in 1813-14 in which commander Andrew Jackson conscripted seven hundred Cherokee to fight with U.S. forces. Jackson’s life was saved during the conflict by a young chief called Junaluska. But it was well-known that Jackson hated native peoples and was using the Cherokee only for the purposes of expediency in ridding the South of Creeks. Once that was accomplished, none doubted that he would use equally ruthless tactics to rid the mountain regions of the Cherokee. It was during the Creek War that the elder Ridge was promoted by Jackson to the rank of major and his brother Oowatie to captain. The Ridge was thereafter known as Major Ridge. Promotions notwithstanding, however, when it came to native peoples, it was clear that Andrew Jackson represented a new breed of American leader who cared nothing for native rights.

  In spite of threats from their cousin, now called Major Ridge, Long’s younger brother, Swift, became one of the loudest voices urging their kinsmen to sell their land while there was still time to profit by it and move West to join their Cherokee cousins. Although his stand was unpopular, his words carried weight in light of the recent plight of the Creeks. The United States government had declared the Creek enemies of the American people and had confiscated their property. How long could the Cherokee hope to retain their rights before the same fate befell them? They must sell their lands and move beyond the government’s reach. So at least argued those, like Long Canoe’s brother, Swift, who advocated joining the Old Settlers in the Arkansas Territory.

  To demonstrate his loyalty to their Cherokee heritage, however, Swift followed his brother’s example and took a Cherokee name rather than their white father’s, calling himself Swift Water. His son he called Swift Horse.

  Long Canoe found himself in the position of peacemaker between his older brother Alexander Saunie and his little brother Swift Water. But speaking out in favor of the Old Settlers had placed Swift Water in great danger with those in the tribe intent on putting a stop to westward migration. Doublehead had already been murdered for his sentiments. Those intent upon stopping migration would not be afraid to kill again.

  Long Canoe matured as one of the Cherokee nation’s new leaders, recognized for his wisdom, intelligence, and cunning. Half white and half Cherokee, his features were light and his hair a dark brown rather than the pure black of his race, and his eyes blue as the sky. Some complained that his years away had turned him into a white man. But never lived a more dedicated Cherokee than Long Canoe, son of Nakey Canoe, grandson of Dragging Canoe, great-grandson of Chief Attacullaculla.

  A new wave of immigration West followed the Creek War of 1813-14. Secretly Swift confided to Long his intention to take his wife and son, Swift Horse, to Arkansas when the time was right. He was already speaking privately with a certain South Carolinian interested in purchasing their land and house.

  Long Canoe worried for the safety of his brother. “What if you are discovered by the elders?” he asked.

  “They will not find out,” replied Swift. “I make sure I am not followed when I go to the city. Nothing is imminent. I am waiting for the right time. Many of our people are changing their views.”

  In actual fact, a few hard-liners like Major Ridge were slowly seeing the necessity to modernize and educate. Perhaps fighting alongside Andrew Jackson and witnessing the fate of the Creeks had changed him. Slowly he grew more moderate.

  David Waite, brother of Major Ridge, and his wife, Susanna, had several children, including Kilakeena, or Buck, and Degadoga, meaning “he stands on two feet.” Buck later changed his name to Elias. After his conversion, David Watie changed his second son’s name from Degadoga to Isaac. For a time he was called Isaac S. (for “Stand”), but later dropped the Isaac and became known as Stand Watie.

  More and more young Cherokee men were sent to white schools. Major Ridge and his brother David Watie were determined to send all three of their sons, the cousins John Ridge, Buck Watie, and Stand Watie—boys about the same age as Long Canoe’s nephew Swift Horse—north to New England to be educated when they reached fifteen or sixteen. Whatever the future held, it seemed clear that the education and Americanization of the rising new generation of Cherokees would play a role in the destiny of their people.

  At last, thought Nanye’hi, the time had come when she must do as she had long anticipated. Dangerous times were coming to their tribe. There was continual talk of migration West. Strife was everywhere within the nation. How much longer she herself would live was even doubtful.

  It was time to secure Long’s pledge on behalf of his great-grandfather.

  When the cousin of his grandfather, the Beloved Ghigua of the Cherokee, came to him, Long Canoe assumed at first that the visit concerned his brother Swift Water. He and Old Granny, as she was known, had always enjoyed a special bond. When she looked at him she pierced his very soul with her deep green-black eyes. Had she received wind of his plan to migrate West?

  Aging Nanye’hi appeared at his home in her finest deerskin robe with all the finery of her position in the tribe, including the same feathers in her hair she had worn on the similar sacred occasion so many years ago. By now Long himself was a respected man in the Cherokee community.

  As the two left the town together on horseback, most of the eyes of their friends and neighbors followed them with curiosity. Nanye’hi led the way up the familiar trail to the top of Ooneekawy Mountain. Not a word was spoken until they reached the same site where Attacullaculla had given his sacred charge when Nanye’hi was still a young woman.

  They paused at the summit of the sacred mountain, and climbed off their horses.

  “I am not as young as I was years ago,” she said, breathing heavily, “when I rode up this mountain with the great chief. At that time the land in every direction belonged to the Cherokee. Now that river marks the eastern boundary.” She shaded her eyes with her hand and stared at the glittering line of silver that wound through the valley.

  Now it was Nanye’hi whose eyes probed what could not be seen. Her ancient visage beheld the legacy of the ancients. Now it was the pulsings of her own heart that she had to pass on to another, as the great chief had passed them on to her. When at last she spoke, her voice, like his in her memory, bore the weight of the centuries.

  “I have a story to tell you, Long Canoe,” she began. “It is the story of our people, what they were, and what they can become again.”

  He listened with reverence, sensing the import of her words.

  “I too was brought to this place, though I was older than you are now,” Nanye’hi continued. “I was brought here by the great chief Attacullaculla, your own great-grandfather. He was dressed in his chieftain’s robe and told many things about the heritage of our people. He chose me to carry a sacred mission of trust, and I have carried it all these years. He commanded me to choose another when my time was done. That is why I have brought you here, because I have chosen you to pass on what was given to me. I have chosen you, Long Canoe, to preserve a sacred and secret legacy of our people.”

  “What legacy, Nanye’hi?”

  “This legacy,” she replied, holding up her thumb.

  “Your ring?”

  “It is not merely a ring—it is one of the sacred council rings that came from the king across the water, a lasting symbol of peace and the unity of our people. Now come, there is more I have to show you.”

  She led the way to a great oak about three hundred yards from the summit.

  “You see this mark where the bark has swollen around the cut of the knife. I inscribed my own sign here thirty-eight years ago as a marker. You know the secret of the triangles. This oak is the first of the three corners. To find the location of the secret, you must find the other two corners, then, with the mid
points of each line joining them, locate the center. That is where I will take you now.”

  She led the way a little farther pausing often to glance at the tree trunks around them. The young man followed, noting carefully the signs carved on the trees. They came to another tree bearing a triangle with a dot in the middle, noted it, then continued the search. When they reached the last corner of the triangle, marked with an identical sign, they had the perimeter of the triangle set.

  Within minutes they closed in on the center. The roar of a waterfall became audible. Soon they could see the falls. The cascade poured over the lip of the rock and fell twenty feet in a graceful arc before continuing its descent to the valley. Nanye’hi led toward it. A cave was hidden in the rock behind the falls. Presently the two entered its mouth hidden behind a pile of boulders which would have been next to impossible to see without knowing the precise center of the triangle. Nanye’hi lit a torch, then led the way inside. Deep into the cave they crept, crouching low. Finally Nanye’hi stopped. She handed the torch to Long Canoe, then fumbled with several stones in the wall of the cave. At last she removed one large rock, and thrust her hand into a cavity in the wall. When she removed her hand she held a small deerskin pouch.

  She turned to Long Canoe, took one of his hands, then opened the pouch and into it poured five rings of pure gold.

  “The council rings!” he exclaimed. “I thought they were a legend.”

  Nanye’hi’s eyes grew deadly serious. “They are legend,” she said. “But they are none the less real and true that they are legend. I have worn the ring of Chief Attacullaculla all this time, and now I pass on the sacred charge of these five to you. The times are more dangerous than ever. You must learn to understand what the rings mean, Long Canoe. You must protect what they symbolize, and, as I have done, when your own time comes, pass them on so that the legacy will be preserved.”