Timecachers (35 page)

Yonah skinned and cleaned the rabbits, threading them onto a spit he rigged above the fire, slowly roasting them while Sal went down to the lake to tend his fingers. Sal held his hand in the cold water until the bleeding stopped and the chill of the water took away the throbbing pain. He examined his fingers once again, noting that no serious damage had been done, other than to his pride at having failed to start the fire and getting laughed at by Yonah. He cupped his hands and filled them with lake water, throwing it onto his face several times as if it could wash away his humiliation. He sat on a rock next to the lake, watching his reflection become clear in the lake water as it stilled. He liked what he saw, of course, and a few moments of self-admiration was enough to reenergize his high-voltage ego. The delicious aroma of the roasting rabbits stirred his appetite, driving any remaining embarrassment from his mind. His confidence returned, knowing that sooner or later Yonah would realize how fortunate he was to have him along.

“Smells good, Tonto,” Sal said, walking back to the camp. “When do we eat?”

“Soon, Squirrel-man, very soon,” Yonah answered, shaking his head in amusement as he rotated the rabbits over the fire.

Chapter thirty-one

T
he next morning Yonah erased all traces of the camp. He told Sal that he may want to return to camp in the same spot, and didn’t want any surprises waiting for him if he did. Sal didn’t think it was likely that anyone would take the trouble to stake out a campsite hoping for the possibility of Yonah’s return, but he shrugged and gave him a hand restoring the camp back to its natural look. They secured their few small bundles in the canoe, and launched it. Sal had plenty of canoe experience on his camping and backpacking adventures, and he used a canoe a few times to reach some island geocaches. After handing him a paddle and pointing to a position, Yonah did not offer any further guidance, sensing that Sal had some paddling experience. They made their way across the lake and headed toward the outlet into the river at the southern end.

“This lake empties into the Little River, which we are about to enter,” said Yonah. “There are two branches at this end of the river, an eastern and a western fork, which meet further to the south. We will follow the western fork to the confluence, and travel beyond that into a deep canyon area where we will find the path to my home. We will pass through some of the most rugged and most beautiful country in the Cherokee lands. As I have mentioned before, it is not an easy passage and there are many dangers. However, there is much beauty to be enjoyed by a stout river traveler.

“I have made the journey several times, so I ask that you follow my instructions closely when we reach the treacherous parts of the river. I ask this not to demean your skills, but to provide the benefit of my experience with this river for the sake of safety.”

“No problemo, Tonto,” said Sal. “Hey, I can appreciate the value of your experience with this river. I’ve canoed plenty of times, but my experience with white water is limited. So you’re the boss, dude.”

Despite Yonah’s ominous warning, the journey began as a silent, pleasant paddle. The river began at a high elevation, meandering down along the ridgeline of Lookout Mountain, following the Tennessee Valley Divide from the western edge of Georgia into northeastern Alabama. It wiggled its way along the mountaintop, passing through several other small lakes and ponds, and slowly decreased in altitude as they paddled southward. The river carved through sandstone cliffs and wrapped around huge granite boulders. There were several small waterfalls along the way, most navigable, although a few required them to head to shore and portage a short distance. It was truly a wild river, one that would have been challenging to Sal in several places, but following Yonah’s direction they passed through without incident. There were several long stretches of peaceful river where the two men paddled along easily in silence, taking in the splendor of their surroundings. As much as Sal relished the magnificence of the river, there was a limit to the amount of serenity he could withstand, and so he decided to risk agitating Yonah’s temperament by striking up a conversation.

“Hey, Tonto, you mentioned the battle of Horseshoe Bend back at New Echota,” Sal began. “If I remember my history, that was part of the War of 1812, wasn’t it?”

Yonah spoke without breaking the rhythm of his paddling. “It was the final battle of the Creek War, which you may consider to be part of that other war, but in reality was a civil war among the Creeks. The root of the Creek War was due to a clash between the Creek chiefs and a faction called the Red Sticks, who wanted to turn the Creeks back to their traditional way of life. The Red Sticks were so resolute in their beliefs they began to attack the white settlers, seeking to destroy all symbols of white influence. They even attacked some of their own people who did not want to reject the whites. The Red Sticks claimed to have received signs from the spirits, guiding them in their beliefs. There was a big earthquake that they claimed was one of the signs. They received much encouragement from the British, who thought it would be a good idea to set some of the Indians against the French, Spanish, and the Americans. The British wanted the Indians to have a neutral state they could trade with, and most of all wished to slow down the American expansion.

“The Americans first became involved when they attacked a band of Red Sticks returning from Spanish Florida with supplies. Because the Red Sticks were attacking settlers, the United States felt compelled to send their military to put an end to the uprising.”

“Didn’t the Cherokees also want to get back to their roots? You know, return to their traditional ways?” asked Sal.

“Some of the Cherokee agreed with the Red Sticks at first, and wanted to go back to the old ways. There was a Cherokee prophet who began to encourage people to destroy all of the trade goods they had from the whites, and he told the people he was going to create a big storm to wipe out all of the non-believers. He told all his followers to abandon their farms and go to the top of a mountain so they would be safe from the storm. A lot of them did, but when the time came and went for the big storm and nothing happened, the people realized he was a false prophet and they all went home.”

“So how did the Cherokees get caught up in the war?”

“The Americans sent Andrew Jackson and a few others with the army to put an end to the Creek War. They did well in some of the battles, since they had cannons and more men than the Red Sticks did. After a while the Red Sticks started doing a lot better, and they really kicked Jackson’s butt down in Alabama and ran him all the way back to Georgia. So some of the Creeks who were still friendly with the whites, along with the Cherokee, thought they should help out the Americans. They put a bunch of us under the command of Colonel Morgan.”

“What about this Horseshoe Bend place? What happened there?”

“Horseshoe Bend is a big loop in the Tallapoosa River, and inside the loop is about a hundred acres of land. There were about a thousand of Chief Menawa’s Red Stick Creeks at the Bend. They built themselves a barricade, a wall of logs about eight feet high, from one edge of the river to the other. That closed off access to their camp, with the wall on one side and the river on the other. They took a bunch of canoes and lined them up in the river, just in case they needed a way to retreat to the other side.

“General Jackson, now that he had reinforcements and about six hundred of us Indians to help—about two thousand men in all—cut his way through the forest to Horseshoe Bend, set up his cannons, and commenced blasting the hell out of the Red Sticks and their wall. He sent us Cherokee with General Coffee around to the other side of the river so we could catch any Red Sticks that tried to get out that way. But after about two hours of cannon fire, they had hardly made a dent in the wall. I guess them Creeks can build a pretty good wall. My friend, Chief Junaluska, a chief from Carolina, thought it would be a good idea for some of us Cherokee to swim across the river and grab a few of the canoes. So that was what we did. Chief Junaluska led a bunch of us across the river, and we kept running the canoes back and forth bringing men across the river until there were enough over there to attack the Red Sticks from the rear. After that, there was no way for them to escape, so it was pretty much a massacre. We took about three hundred prisoners, but only three of them were men. All the other warriors had been killed. The rest of the prisoners were women and children who were living there. Two weeks later, the Red Sticks leader, Red Eagle, who was also called William Weatherford, came in and surrendered to General Jackson.

“Jackson let Red Eagle go, but not before making the Creeks sign a treaty that gave up twenty-three million acres of their land. He even took the land from the Creeks who were on his side. Some of that land had been ours, and we got it back as part of the treaty, paid for with our blood. But now that son of a bitch Jackson wants to take that from us, too. He wants to take all the land from the very people who saved his ass at Horseshoe Bend and helped him win enough honors to become president.”

“Uncool, man. That dude was unrighteous. Not very grateful for your sacrifices,” said Sal.

“We do not need him to be grateful,” Yonah snapped. “But principled and honest should not be too much to ask. And it seems the new president is no better!”

Sal grunted his agreement, but said nothing. He remembered enough history to know there was more to it than that. Jackson faced a country bent on expansion, and he probably believed that the only solution was to move the Indians to the west. Settlers had been constantly ignoring the boundaries of Indian land, leading to more friction between them. Sal also knew that Jackson wasn’t above using the situation to advance his own political career by telling the settlers what they wanted to hear—that he would enforce removal of all Native Americans east of the Mississippi.

Of course he wasn’t about to get into a conversation with Yonah that suggested he should consider Jackson’s point of view. Sal enjoyed conflict, but he wasn’t stupid. It would be like trying to justify to a war veteran why the politicians didn’t keep promises made to them. In fact, it was exactly like that. Even worse—it would be like trying to justify why they wanted to take away his home and give it to someone else.

He also understood that Yonah had firsthand knowledge of the situation, and may have even met Andrew Jackson. Sal only knew what he read in history books, and what he had discussed with the other members of the team to refresh his memory of the period. The history he knew was written by the descendants of the American settlers, and he suspected that it might read quite a bit differently had the Indians written it.

Sal thought about how Yonah was going to feel about the whites when history played out the way he knew it was going to. Even the most callous individual could not justify what was done to the indigenous people in the name of expansionism and so-called manifest destiny. He thought about how he would react if he were in Yonah’s place, and wondered if he would be able to accept the unfairness and maintain his dignity. It occurred to him that there would be little choice but to accept it.

They were making good time, helped along by the flow of the river. In several places the portage required a steep climb while carrying the canoe, but nothing that exceeded Sal’s abilities. He enjoyed the physical exertion, and loved the magnificent scenery along the pristine river. The river level was high and the water exceptionally clear and cold. Yonah directed their paddling, leaving him free to delight in the shimmering reflections of the landscape in the mirror-like surface of the river as they rolled by. Many of the rivers back east were murky and full of green silt. This river reminded him more of pictures he had seen of the clean, clear rivers in the Canadian wilderness.

Yonah told him that they would soon reach Indian Falls, a waterfall with a hundred foot drop over a concave rock cliff. Here they could expect a demanding portage. Sal was looking forward to seeing the falls; Yonah made them sound spectacular, and he didn’t mind making the portage. How difficult could it be? After all, they would be going downhill. Yonah planned to make camp somewhere near the falls, and continue the journey in the morning, which was just fine with Sal. The thought of a swim in a clean, cold pool beneath a waterfall sounded invigorating after an exhausting day of canoeing.

They guided the canoe around a wide bend in the river, and as they cleared the turn, the flow of the river increased slightly. Sal sat upright, looking over Yonah’s head to the river beyond, checking for signs of the waterfall.

“There is still some distance to go before we reach the falls,” said Yonah, noticing Sal’s nervousness. “There is a landing ahead, well clear of the falls, where we can begin our portage.”

“Okay then,” said Sal. “I’ll trust you not to let us go sailing over…”

“Asduda! Hush!” Yonah said sternly. “I hear someone speaking on shore.”

Yonah noiselessly back-paddled, slowing the canoe while he searched the shoreline for the source of the voices. He spotted two men sitting on a rock by the shoreline, passing a jug back and forth. He drew Sal’s attention to them with a jerk of his chin. They could hear their voices, talking loudly and laughing, although they were still too far away to make out what they were saying. Yonah spotted a pair of flintlock rifles leaning against a tree next to them.

“They are armed,” he whispered, “and apparently drunk with whiskey. We will move as far away toward the opposite shore as possible, and try to use the boulders in the river to shield us from their view. We must go quietly. Unfortunately, the river is not wide enough at this point to get out of range of their rifles.”