“Hmmm; a companion to the Lone Ranger?” Yonah scratched his head. “I do not understand. If he was a lone ranger, why did he have a companion?”
“I guess he didn’t want to get too lonely,” Sal smirked. “I dunno, I guess he needed the skills of Tonto to track people and stuff so he could be a hero.”
“What did he do that made him a hero?”
“He got into fights and beat up the bad guys after Tonto led him to them.”
“Didn’t Tonto fight? Was he a coward?” Yonah looked disgusted. “What tribe was he?”
“Naw, man, he wasn’t a coward. Tonto was an awesome fighter, but he only fought when he had to help out the Lone Ranger. I don’t know what tribe he was.”
Yonah considered this for a moment. “It sounds to me like Tonto was the smart one. He did the tracking and let this Lone Ranger fellow do most of the fighting,” he said. “He must have been Tsalagi.”
“Yeah, well, I suppose you have a point, dude. But it was the Lone Ranger who was the hero. And I don’t think he was Cherokee—the Lone Ranger and Tonto lived out west somewhere.”
“He was probably only the hero to the white people,” said Yonah. “I bet the Indians thought Tonto was the real hero. He probably just let the Lone Ranger believe himself to be the hero so he could use him to fight bad guys. I still think he could be a Cherokee. Maybe he was one of the Old Settlers that moved out west a while back.”
“Whatever.” Sal had a defeated look. “I probably shouldn’t call you that, though, dude. I don’t think the Native Americans who live in my time like the name very much.”
“I do not mind. He seems to have been a very smart Indian traveling with a white man who thinks he’s special. Sounds familiar to me,” he said with a half-grin.
Chapter thirty-eight
The water was freezing cold. In spite of their discomfort, crossing the icy creek helped relieve their lingering muscle aches. Sal and Yonah were across the creek before sunrise, and by the time they reached the top of the next hill the rising sun had already begun to dry them. It was going to be a very warm day; a forewarning that the pleasant spring climate would soon turn into humid, sweltering summer days typical in the Deep South. Today they welcomed the warmth. They had a few more stream crossings to make and the bright sun would dry them quickly, sparing them the unpleasantness of walking in wet clothing.
It was barely past mid-day when they reached the top of the ridge, where they halted before making the final climb to Yonah’s mountain. From the ridge they could once again see the river running through the deeply carved canyon far below. Yonah pointed at the river to their east, tracing its route in the air with his finger. He stopped when he was pointing at the place where the river divided.
“The tributary that divides off to the west flows along the southern side of my mountain. The creek continues to run through a deep canyon, hiding the approach to my cabin high on the mountaintop. It is the way we would have gone had we used the river. Coming from this direction, we need only to climb the northern side of the mountain,” said Yonah.
“So we’re coming through the back door, huh? I hope you didn’t lose your house keys back there in the river,” Sal quipped.
“There is only one door and it faces east. No lock. Someone may need to get in,” Yonah said solemnly.
The climb was steep but not far. They emerged from the woods into a clearing at the very summit of the mountain. In the center of the clearing sat a tiny cabin, to Sal’s eyes not much more than a large shed. The building measured no more than twelve feet wide by fifteen feet long. The walls were axe-cut trees, notched at the corners with mud plastered between them. A stone chimney overspread one side, tapering to a narrow flue jutting above the pine bark roof.
“Home, sweet home at last, eh Tonto? We probably oughta check out that arm of yours first thing. I don’t suppose you have a Med-pack in there, do you, dude?”
“I have material for clean dressing and unguent, if that is what you mean,” Yonah answered as they entered the cabin.
Both men froze as they stepped across the threshold. Inside the cabin was a shambles. Items of all kinds were strewn across the floor. The table that once sat in the middle of the room was pushed against the wall, and the two chairs were overturned. Containers that had once stood on a shelf near the hearth were upended, their contents dumped onto the floor. The cooking tools from the mantle had been scattered and blankets tossed down from the sleeping loft above.
“Someone has been here,” said Yonah.
“No kidding! How can you tell, Tonto? Must be that keen Indian sense of yours. I just thought you were a terrible housekeeper. Maybe you oughta rethink that lock and key thing.”
“I do not know why this was done. I have very little that anyone would want to steal.”
It took them less than thirty minutes to put the tiny cabin back in order. Yonah said that only a few insignificant items were missing, mostly tools, a haunch of dried venison, and his animal traps were nowhere to be found.
Yonah pulled a loose stone from the hearth, and retrieved a metal box from a hole underneath. He opened the box and removed a pouch and a handful of coins. He inventoried the coins, and tossed them back into the box with a jingle.
“At least they didn’t find my money. There isn’t much, but I’ll need it for supplies.”
He opened the pouch and dumped the contents into his hand, revealing an ample pile of sizeable gold nuggets.
“Holy Jalapenos!” Sal’s eyes bugged. “Dude, are those real gold nuggets?”
“I used to do a bit of gold panning before they made it illegal for the Cherokee. I figure these nuggets just might come in handy someday. They should be worth a good bit these days.”
“I’d say so! They’d be worth a freakin’ fortune in my time.”
Yonah refilled the pouch and put the valuables back into their hiding place, then turned his attention to locating his medical supplies. They managed to find the salve and clean dressing for Yonah’s arm. As he was tying the new bandage, Sal was startled by the sound of a loud, shrill whistle from outside. His first thought was that the intruders had returned.
“Calm yourself,” Yonah said. “That was just my neighbor being polite, giving me a warning before he approaches my house.”
“Your neighbor? Maybe he got an eyeball on whoever tore up your place.”
“Perhaps, but not likely. Henri is my closest neighbor, but his cabin is several miles away.” Yonah opened the cabin door and gave a brief wave to the man outside.
The man met Yonah at the door, leaning his rifle against the cabin and grasping Yonah’s hand. He beamed a yellow-ivory smile, his mouthful of enormous teeth flashing through a dense, bushy blonde beard that hung in strands down the length of his chest and across his homespun flannel shirt.
“Osiyo, Yonah, mon frère. I’m happy to see you returned safely,” he said in a thunderous voice, still shaking Yonah’s hand as he entered the cabin.
He was as broad-shouldered as Yonah, and nearly a foot taller. The smile turned to an expression of concern when he noticed the bandage on Yonah’s arm.
“You are injured!” he said, his deep, booming voice blasting against the cabin walls, reaching Sal’s ears with the force of a cannon shot. The voice was an odd mixture of southern drawl with a substantial French accent.
“Osiyo, Henri. It is nothing,” Yonah answered. “It would have been much more serious if not for my traveling companion, who pulled me from the river and saved me from certain death at Indian Falls, where we were shot at and lost our canoe. Henri Acres, please meet my new friend from up north. His name is saloli-man. I call him squirrel-man, because he may be small like a squirrel, but he is clever, quick, and has a plucky heart.”
“Squirrel-man, eh?” Henri bawled, the smile once again radiating from his hirsute face. “Mon Dieu, mon vieux! I am so glad you didn’t skin him and eat him afore he got a chance to save you.” His deafening laughter at his own joke shook the timber walls
of the cabin.
“Bonjour, Little Squirrel,” he said, pumping Sal’s arm. His massive head bobbed as he robustly shook Sal’s hand, hair shaking like a dust mop in a windstorm. “I am pleased to meet the squirrel who saved a bear! C’est bon! A tour de force!” he said, setting off another explosion of laughter. “I am called Henri.” He pronounced his name on-ree.
Sal was as stunned by the powerful handshake as he was by the unexpected praise from Yonah. Henri continued enthusiastically pumping his hand, which was completely enwrapped within the huge man’s massive fist. He quaked from the energetic manhandling of his arm, sending tremors through his bones to his rattling teeth.
“Hey, I’m thrilled to meet you, too, dude,” Sal replied, his voice trembling in time with the handshake. “But give me back my arm, will ya, big guy?” He tried to remove his hand from Henri’s vise-like grip. “I might need it for something later.”
“Oh, excusez-moi, Little Squirrel,” he said solemnly, finally releasing Sal’s hand. “I sometimes am too vigorous. I did not intend to hurt your little squirrel paw.”
“No harm done, Goliath. And you can just call me Sal, okay?”
“I would like to hear more of your adventure,” Henri said, “and how the little squirrel saved the big bear, but I am afraid I have to give you my news first, for your escapade may not yet be over.”
“Would your news have anything to do with the condition I found my cabin in when I returned?” Yonah asked.
“Zut alors! Then they have already been here.” He clucked and shook his wooly head. “Early this morning my home was also invaded by the miscreants. They arrived with the intention of driving me and my wife Meggie from our home.”
“Surely they know you are white, and even though Meggie is full-blood, she is exempt from removal by her marriage to you,” said Yonah.
“These scoundrels didn’t care about any of that,” he spat. “They were not soldiers, neither federal nor state militia. They were looking to get their hands on any property they could—steal it if they had to. By the grace of god, I had my muzzleloader primed and ready when they came. None of them were anxious to carry a musket ball home in his head. I suspected they would come this way next.”
“They did,” said Yonah. “Been here and gone. They only took a few things; not much else is worth taking except my small savings, which was well hidden and they did not find. Squirrel-man and I put the place back together in just a short time. I am appreciative of your coming to warn me, but it seems as though the danger has already passed.”
“I am certain it has only begun,” said Henri. “It is said that the soldiers have begun to round up all the Cherokee in Georgia. As soon as that is complete, Colonel Lindsay will begin the roundup here, and send the members of any Cherokee household to Fort Payne to await relocation.
“I believe the men who attempted to invade our homes are the forefront of many more to come—greedy, lawless men hoping to take advantage of the misfortune of others. Now that it is known that the government has begun to forcefully take the Cherokee from their homes, the scoundrels will descend upon them in droves to get first pickings from their property. I suggest that you sleep lightly tonight, and keep a weapon at the ready.”
“We shall do that. Your words ring true to me, Henri Acres. I will be expecting thieves in the night. Those who come here looking for trouble will surely find it.”
Henri nodded his approval. He began to speak further, but hesitated, glancing once at Sal then back again at Yonah.
“Yes, my friend?” questioned Yonah. “Is there something else you wish to tell me?”
“It may not be my place to ask,” Henri replied, speaking hesitantly instead of his usual forthright manner, “but it is certain now that soon the soldiers will come for you if you do not report to the fort. Will you not try to avoid that confrontation?”
“I have no desire to leave my home,” Yonah stated.
“But if it is forced upon you…”
“Death will also be forced upon me. Should I kill myself now to avoid facing it later?” Yonah said irritably.
“Certainement pas! Forgive me, mon ami. I should not have mentioned it. It’s just that your sister is concerned, and frets for your wellbeing. We despise what is happening, and don’t wish to add to your anxiety.” He shook his great mop of a head and sighed. “C’est la guerre!”
Yonah sat down heavily and puffed out his cheeks. “No, I am not angry at you. It is understandable that my family is concerned, and has a right to ask about my intentions. I wish I had better words of comfort for you to take back to Meggie. I am holding out against hope that I may be able to remain on my own land somehow.”
“What news did you learn on your trip to New Echota?” Henri asked. “We hoped you would learn something encouraging from the leaders in Red Clay and Washington City.”
“Only that the change of the white government means nothing changes for us. John Ross is still speaking strongly against the false treaty of New Echota, but for the most part his words fall upon deaf ears. Much of my news is rendered moot now that you have told me the soldiers have been engaged. Once the whites have taken our land, I do not believe our leaders will be able to undo the treachery.”
“Je suis d’accord,” said Henri. “So far, I have only heard of military action in Georgia. Perhaps Ross can stop the madness before they begin here.”
The room fell into silence. It was evident by the look on Yonah’s face that he no longer believed the removal could be avoided, although he was still unwilling to speak the words aloud. Even Sal, who was never in doubt of what would occur, was stunned into silence by Yonah’s sudden look of hopelessness.
Breaking the painful silence, Henri said, “I must be en route, Yonah. I do not wish to leave my Meggie by herself for too long. She is a strong woman who can take care of herself, but it would be best for me to be home before nightfall.”
“Yes, of course. It would be best not to risk leaving her alone for too long.” Yonah exhaled long and forcefully, ridding himself of his despondency in a lungful of breath. A faint glimmer of the sparkle reappeared in his eyes. “Tell my sister not to worry, all will be well. I will try to visit with her soon—perhaps I will even bring Squirrel-man. I know they would get along well, and I will try to convince him to take one of her clan-sisters for a wife.”
“For a what--! Hold on there a minute, Tonto. I’m sure your sisters are real lookers, but I’m not really interested in, uh…” Sal stammered, cringing at the thought of life with a female Yonah, to the amusement of the other two men who began laughing again.
“Why Little Squirrel, you don’t know what you would be missing! There is nothing better than a tres beau Cherokee belle to keep you warm through long winter nights,” Henri said through tears of laughter.
“I would be happy to tell you of the many delightful qualities of a Cherokee wife, but I am afraid it must wait for another day. It has been a pleasure to meet you,” Henri continued earnestly. He firmly placed his powerful paw on Sal’s shoulder and shook his hand again with his other meaty fist. This time Henri remembered to let go after only a few jostling shakes. “I hope you do get a chance to visit with us. And again, merci beaucoup for saving our old black bear. Au revoir!”
“It’s been a real whoop-de-do meeting you as well, Goliath. It’d be super cool to hop on over with Yonah for a visit one of these days,” Sal said with some sincerity. He liked Henri, although he wasn’t anxious to subject himself to the brunt of the two men’s amusement again anytime soon.
Henri turned to Yonah and clutched him in a great hug. Yonah suppressed a grunt, not wanting to show the pain the embrace caused his wounded shoulder. He returned the hug with equal gusto.
As he exited the cabin, Henri stopped to retrieve his rifle and carry-sack. “Oh, I nearly forgot,” he said, handing the sack to Yonah. “Meggie sent this food she prepared for you. Good thing, too, since the thieves took your provisions. There is more than enough for you both. Bon app�
�tit!” He then slung his rifle over his shoulder and began walking back down along the mountain path, stopping only for a moment at the edge of the woods to turn and vigorously wave goodbye.
“Well, my friend,” said Yonah as he plopped the carry sack down on the tiny table and began removing the contents. “Meggie has provided a feast for us, and she is an excellent cook. Shall we eat?”
“You bet, dude. Good cooking is one of the qualities of Cherokee women I already know about. Serve it up, Tonto; let’s eat. I’m starving!”
Chapter thirty-nine
It was a short ride that lasted an eternity. Staring blankly at the road ahead, none of them could bear to look back after their final glance at the farm. They rode along in silence except for an occasional sob from Sally, still tightly hugging her mother. Alice sat next to her, holding her tiny hand. She was too angry to think of any comforting words to say to the little girl. Everything that came to mind seemed trite and inconsequential.
The closer they got to New Echota, the more caravans of Cherokee families they saw. The procession of somber-faced families reminded Alice of movies she had seen of Jewish prisoners being herded into the concentration camps of Nazi Germany. The scene was surreal, incredible. While this was not her present, not even her century, it was her country. This inconceivable, racist transgression was happening in the United States of America. Alice loved her country and she considered herself patriotic, but this deplorable malfeasance was disgraceful and reprehensible.
When they reached the river, they joined the line of a half-dozen wagons queued up for the ferry crossing. The slaves running the ferry were now accompanied by a pair of soldiers, posted to keep order and expedite the normally lax operation. They barked out orders to the slaves, who mostly ignored them. The ferry workers moved at their usual dawdling speed, occasionally expressing their irritation with surreptitious glances of disdain. The wagon drivers paid the soldiers more heed, snapping to as they were gruffly waved forward onto the boat.
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