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Tag Archives: The Trail of Tears

October 16, 1838, in Red Wolf’s Day Log

28 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Events

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Cherokee Star

This morning at sunrise a procession of our people moved slowly and silently to the Tennessee River. Below the head of the Great Bear we dipped in the water and cleansed ourselves. Some of the women elders shed tears, knowing they will never return to this land of our ancestors.

Father tells me that we will travel several days along the river. After we leave it far behind, it will curve around so we will cross it once again in central Tennessee. Today feels like the day we have been preparing for all my life, when we leave our land behind. We embark on a long journey to a new land to call our own. Will it be a Promised Land? Will the Great Spirit provide for us as we wander through the wilderness? Will many of us die on the way?

As I watched people the last three days, I could tell that a lot of our people are weak and sick. Measles, whooping cough, bloody bowels are among the sicknesses that still are showing up. Several of us are just weak and worn out from being sick, and not having enough good food and shelter. Many of us do not have strength for such a journey. It is not a good beginning.

Grandfather was with the lead wagons today. Some people were slow to get underway, and Udoda, Jack, and even the soldiers came back and forth trying to get the slowest ones started. Uloghi Jennie—I can’t call her Uji yet—, the children, Ezekiel, Will and I are still at the tail. I began to feel impatient with those who were slow to move, because they made us wait too.

The wagon path on the south side of the river is sometimes in sight of the water. Sometimes the path moves up the mountainside into rocky areas and brush under the trees. The mountains are steep on the other side of the river. With the rocky narrow road and slow start we barely made four miles today. We cannot see the Great Bear’s head anymore.

August 3, 1838, on Lookout Mountain South of Ross’s Landing

20 Friday Mar 2015

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Cherokee Star

Will and Little John picked their way up the vertical climb through the rocks, brambles, and vines, and between the trees that managed to keep a foothold. The sun was setting in the west and cast long shadows across the mountainside.  When they came to a flat rock sheltered by an angular boulder at its side, they decided they had gone far enough for the day, sat down and looked behind them. The wide Tennessee River snaked down from the north, flowing toward the base of the mountain, and abruptly turned west to flow between the mountains to their left. They could see all the way down to the landing in the distance, where men were trying to herd some balky, mixed breed cattle onto the ferry for the trip across the river, but they could only imagine the herding calls and the words they were using.  Still farther upriver one of the great barges sat tied to moorings at the riverside, and it looked like some of the housing structures built so recently atop it were already being dismantled after the decision not to depart by boat.

“Those cows don’t want to cross the river any more than our people do,” Will said.

“Can’t blame ‘em. They aren’t used to feeling the world rock underneath their feet either. But it sure is a pretty view from up here.”

They sat quietly for a while, then pulled out some of the hard bread and dried meat they had packed to chew on, and rolled out their bedding as the darkness continued to descend. Only a few strands of high cirrus clouds reflected the changing red hues of the sunset before the sky itself began to darken into deeper blue and finally black.

The evening was still hot, and the rocks radiated stored heat from the summer sun, but soon Little John was complaining of the chill and wrapped himself tighter into his blanket.

“It’s not a bit cold, Lil’ John,” Will said, but when he held his hand to Little John’s forehead, he could feel the fever that was bringing on the chills. “You caught somethin’.  We didn’t get away soon enough, I’m fraid.”  The shivering continued, until finally Will lay down beside Little John and held his own blanket around him, until his shaking subsided, and they had both fallen asleep, exhausted from the long day’s travel. A few times in the night Little John’s rasping and coughing brought them both awake again, but not for long, and sometime in the night Little John’s fever broke and he was drenched in sweat as if he had been running in the midday sun.

May,1833, at the Bell General Store, Coosawattee Town

17 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history

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Cherokee Nation laurel and starDavid stood behind the counter with his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable, and wishing he was working in the field instead of listening to several angry and raucous men.

“What does your brother think he’s doing, joining the protest against Chief Ross at Council?” Young Turkey said, louder than necessary in the small store cabin.

“Well, what do you expect him to do?”  Jack Daugherty yelled. “Ross is a dreamer, but he doesn’t see the plain truth staring back at him. We don’t stand a chance of keeping our nation together here. They’re picking us off four and five at a time, people seizing the house and land as soon as one of us leaves to go hunting, or to visit a friend. We could go home right now, and find our wives and children kicked out and crying.”

George Arnold spoke more evenly, trying to calm the waters.  “Even Ross’ brother Andrew, and his nephew Cooley disagree with his position. Major Ridge spelled out the whole story at the Council. He went into great detail and made the case. So I don’t blame Jack for signing the petition asking Ross to explain himself and stop delaying. We’ve got to get the best deal we can, before we can’t make a deal at all.”

“Wasn’t Chief Ross trying to do that when he went to Washington? I heard he tried to get twenty million at least, since there’s that much gold in the mountains, let alone the value of the land,” said John Otterlifter as he tipped the chair he was sitting in, balancing on the back two legs.

Quickly Jim Stone slipped in, “Then why won’t he admit it and get it out in the open?”

“He’s afraid of losing the support of most of the fullbloods, I say.”

“He’s not going to make us leave without a fight. He’s not going to settle for a pittance like his brother, either.”

“We’re not going to fight. Ross is no fighter. Can’t you see that? Ask Black Hawk and the Sauk tribe how much good it did them to fight out in Illinois. I just don’t see why Ross doesn’t knuckle down and negotiate a good price. He knows how to make a bargain. If he can’t, get his brother Lewis to do it. He could dicker the shell off a turtle. ”

“You’re much too quick to give up.”

“Why did Jack and the others agree to let Ross wait until the October meeting to explain himself?

“They don’t know what to do either.”

Little Wolf looked from man to man as they responded so fast to each other. He hadn’t heard men talk so quickly to each other before, even interrupting each other, and not allowing one man to finish before another spoke. It was confusing. Why were they so angry with each other?

Finally there was a quiet moment and several of the men were looking at David. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve tried to stay out of it, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to my brother. I think everyone is just trying to do the best job they can, and time is running out.  Now, I’m going to go home to Allie, and try to explain to her what’s going on, when I don’t know myself.”

He started blowing out the oil lamps, and putting away the record book, and making it clear that it was time to close the store. “You can stay and talk as long as you want, but I don’t know what good it’s going to do us. I know it won’t help if we come to blows. Fighting each other is the last thing we need at a time like this.” The men were headed toward the door, and David had Little John’s hand in his own.  Soon they were walking toward home.[1]

“Why is everyone so mad all the time?” Little Wolf asked his father.

“I think it’s because no one knows exactly what to do. When people are afraid and don’t know where to turn, they get angry and upset. Instead we should keep alert and watchful, like the owl and the hawk, to see what’s happening and when to take to wing. We have to see the whole view like the eagle, and every little thing that happens like the hawk. If we fuss with each other and don’t use our brains, we’ll act more like frightened mice or rabbits, and fall prey to people who would hurt us.”

[1] John Ehle, Trail of Tears, p. 265

July, 1834, on the footpath along the Coosawattee River in Georgia

13 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history

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Cherokee Star

Followed by Little Wolf, David herded two large oxen down the path past the last cabins of Coossawattee Town as they headed toward home. “Now I have this problem,” he said half to himself. Little Wolf looked up at his father, but didn’t say anything.

“How do I tell your mother that I spent most of a year’s income on these oxen?”  They walked on for a while in silence, only the swishing of the oxen tails and the clop of their hooves making any sound to compete with the midsummer locusts. “Do you suppose it will help to tell her that I bought them from Samuel Lattamore? That’s her clan brother who’s married to your aunt Rachel, even if we don’t see much of them.” Little Wolf just kicked a little dust in reply.

“I suppose we’ll know soon enough if she minds my buying them. I could take them back if I can’t persuade her that we’ll need them, but I hope that I can.”

A small outcropping of limestone, typical of the region along the lower river, gave way to the clearing where their first field showed the corn in full tassel, and the squash and bean vines growing abundantly between the stalks.

“Just a little bit farther and I’ll have my answer.”

Not far from their house David saw Allie standing in the small cotton patch, inspecting the blossoms.  He called to her. “I think you’ll have a good crop of cotton,” he called as soon as he thought she would see him.

“Where’d you get those?” she answered. “I don’t remember talking about buying a team of oxen.

“You’re right. We didn’t. I saw Sam Lattamore in town. He delivered a new wagon to John Martin. He drove it all the way from the Hiwassee River in McMinn County, and I was admiring this pair of oxen. He said he’d sell them, too, since he’d raised them, and didn’t need them himself, and Judge Martin already had ten good teams.  So I offered him thirty dollars, and we settled at forty. But if you don’t think we should buy them, I’ll take them back.”

Allie pursed her lips and began to examine them, as she thought about it. She rubbed her hands over their flanks and examined their mouths and teeth. “No, I think you did all right. I’d been wondering how we would move our stuff when the time came, and a good working team will help us in the field wherever we are. So you are safe this time. But I don’t want you to get used to spending our money without talking to me. This time I agree that you did well in buying them when you did.”

David breathed a visible sigh of relief and gave Little Wolf an open-eyed look and a wink. “Little John helped me make the decision. He’s going to be a bargainer like his Grandpa, I think.”

“I suppose so,” was all that she said. “Did you hear any news?”

“Sam says your clan relatives are all as well as can be expected. They heard from Arkansas. Your mother Ruth is strong as ever. She is herding more cattle. They heard from your aunt-mother Nancy Starr. They are prospering with their mill and holdings there at Evansville. They said they are ready for more of their family to join them and hoping it will be soon.”

Allie answered, “It’s already been ten summers since Nancy and Caleb moved out there. I didn’t dream we would even consider going there. It’s been hard to have the family so far apart.”

David continued, “The people are getting ready for the Green Corn Festival. There are special preparations at New Echota, the largest festival ever, they say, a full week of stomp dancing, fasting and fresh corn feasting, stick ball, scratching ceremonies, everything. I suppose we should plan to go.”

“Hmmph. I don’t think I want to leave Old Coosawattee Town this year. We should prepare a gayugi[iii] to take care of old Deaf Nancy’s fields, and it seems strange to me to leave Old Coosawattee when it may be the last time we get to celebrate here. There has been a green corn festival here for as long as anyone can remember. The old people would surely miss it if everyone went to New Echota instead.”

David stepped close to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m glad you feel that way. I’d rather be here myself, and, you’re right, Deaf Nancy could use our help. That should come first. We can get a dozen or so to form a gayugi for her, and then we can celebrate in the old style, even if most of the town goes away. Besides, even with the ban on liquor, someone will sneak it in when the crowd gathers at New Echota. Someone is always spoiling the old ways.” Then he and Allie shared a strong kiss, even while Little Wolf stood silently looking at them.

“One other piece of interesting news, though I don’t know what it means. Sam said that his brother-in-law James Starr, and another of your clan brothers, John Walker, Jr., are in Washington with Andrew Ross, trying to negotiate a plan with Andrew Jackson.”[iv]

“They can’t do that!” Allie protested. “They don’t have any authority. They can only get into trouble with the people!”

“My feelings exactly. But that is what he said, and that is what I heard from the four winds as well, though less politely.”

“It’s already being talked about, then. This will be awful for them. “Allie paused for a moment before she continued. “We should name them Cain and Abel.”

“What?” David asked, confused.

“The oxen. We should call them Cain and Abel, because of the division growing among the Ani Yun’wiya.[v]”  She then sat down with Little Wolf and explained to him the bible story that gave the oxen their names.

[iii] A gayugi was a communal show of support.

[iv] John Ehle, Trail of Tears, p.266

[v] The Ani Yun’wiya are the Principal People, the traditional self-designation of the Cherokee Nation. The name “Tsa’ lagi” (brought into English as Cherokee) is of uncertain origin and meaning.

April, 1831, along the Coosawattee River in Georgia

04 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history, Racial Prejudice

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Cherokee Nation laurel and star

The horses and the cows were grazing in one of the fenced lots near the small log barn, and the plow sat near the gate. David was hoeing in the field, and the sun was beginning its final descent into western horizon. At the edge of the field Little Wolf had his own small hoe and wielded it with the sporadic determination of a two year old. His mother, Allie, his “Uji,” was within calling distance as she worked in the garden nearer the house, lifting and resetting small green sprouts.

The sound of a trotting horse turned their faces to the road that ran by their house and farm. The rider was coming from the Southwest along the river road, and soon they could see the calico shirt, buckskin pants, and dark skin of Ezra, a trusted slave belonging to Uncle Jack.  He turned his horse in David’s direction as soon as he saw him standing in the field.

“Your brother been arrested,” he said breathlessly to David as he slipped off the horse. “Happen this morning near New Echota, when Jack out to buy some salt pork for his store. Not know what happen to him when he not come back when he said.”[iii]

“Who arrested him?”  David interrupted.

“Georgia Guard. I find out when I go find Jack. Wife of old man Sawney see it happen and tell me. The soldiers come up the road with white man who claim old man’s place belong to him. Jack not happy and get mad. Tell white men to go back and leave old man alone. Soldiers arrest both and take ‘em away. Say they will sell ‘em for slaves.”

“Do you know where they took them?”

“No. I go back to New Echota and tell Mr. Boudinot what I find out. He gets his man Caleb and they go to look for him.”

“Thank you, Ezra. Come with me and we’ll get something for you to eat. I’ve got to think about this. The Georgia Guard no longer has to have a reason to do what they do.” David took the reins of the horse and led it back to the stable.

Allie and Little Wolf had come up behind them and heard their words. Allie escorted Ezra to their house and offered him the basin, water pitcher, and towels sitting on the porch for washing hands and faces, and they each in turn used them. After she had cleaned up Little Wolf, she went inside to prepare for their meal.  Spreading a fresh muslin tablecloth, she began putting brown stamped pottery bowls and metal spoons on the table, preparing for the stew that she had simmering in a black pot hanging above the coals in the fireplace. Taking the loaf of corn bread from a sideboard she cut it into thick slices on the table. She set a pitcher of goat’s milk and four cups in easy reach at the center of the table. Next to it she placed a large bowl of mixed berries and a wooden spoon. Finally, she took the bowls to the pot and filled them with a steaming mixture of meat, broth, and vegetables. By that time, David also had cleaned up and come in.

David said, “Please sit down, Mr. Ezra. We are grateful to you for bringing us word of our brother.”

Ezra hesitated a moment,  then sat down quickly on the bench and rubbed his hands together. The others sat down after him. David thanked the Creator Spirit for the food on their table and their guest, and asked help for his brother, and they began to eat.

“You stay here tonight, Ezra. You and your horse have travelled far enough for today,” David said, after a few quiet minutes. “I will go back to New Echota and see if there is any news from Elias. If not, I will stay at Jack’s store until I have been able to learn something. I just hope that Jack is able to keep his temper under control. He could make matters worse if he loses it again.”

“I go back tonight,” Ezra said. “My horse is strong. I don’t rest here. Your brother needs me to work at store when he gone. We take road slow. Full moon tonight helps us.”

“I wish you could both wait until morning,” Allie said. “But if there is anything to be done, I know you want to get right to it. Perhaps John Martin could advise us. If he is here I will find out in the morning and speak with him. If he is in New Echota you must speak to him.”

“Yes, I will also see if John Ridge is getting back from his trip to Washington with any news.[iv] If I know my brother Jack, he will try to bribe his way out when he finds a greedy officer. Sorry to say, that is probably the best way to handle it. We don’t need yet another case that stands on principles, because Georgia has none. The governor will just stand with his back to the wall and fight like a wildcat, and keep people in prison. We have to get Jack out if we can.”

[iii] The account of John Adair Bell’s arrest comes from The Cherokee Adairs prepared by the Adair Family Reunion Book Committee, published by the Cherokee Nation 2003, page 26.

[iv] The account of John Ridge’s delegation to Washington D.C. in mid-1831 and his meetings with President Jackson are recorded in Chapter 15 of John Ehle, Trail of Tears: The Rise and Fall of the Cherokee Nation (New York, Doubleday, 1988), pages 240ff.

February, 1831, at the Bell General Store, Coosawattee Town in Georgia

03 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history

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Cherokee Nation seal and stars

At the edge of the flagstones in front of a smoldering fire in the fireplace, Little Wolf sat on the wood floor playing with pick-up sticks, listening to the older men who sat around. They took turns talking, with the silences longer than the sentences. Uncle Jack’s general store was a low-ceiling cabin with shelves covering the outside walls, filled with bolts of fabric, tools, cans of coffee, tea, and tobacco, herbs and spices, guns and ammunition.

The half-breed Jim Stone[i] spoke, drawing from his long-pipe after every few words, and letting the smoke out as he spoke, “It was not enough for them… to take the gold from the mountains. They had to take the mountains, too. Then they wanted the fields and barns… the houses and towns and rivers. They want it all, make no mistake. Until they eat it all up, eat the people, too. Like a monster alligator, crawling from the swamp.” Then he accented his words with a “Hummph,” the signal that he was done and another man could speak.

Jack Dougherty was next to speak, “There’s no one left to stand with us. Jackson took his soldiers home to Washington. Georgia does whatever it wants. They even threaten to put the preachers in jail—Worcester, Thompson, Mayes, Trott, Butler, Clauder. It doesn’t matter what church they come from, they will take them all to court, threaten to keep them in jail if they stand with us. We have to stand alone. Hummph.”

Then Young Turkey took his turn. “We have a good crop this year. We could take the corn and buckwheat and our animals into the hills, and make our stand there. We know the land better than the Georgia boys. There we have a chance even when they outnumber us. Hunh.”

“That works for us, but what about our wives and children, our old people?” Wat Sanders asked. “This has been our land for many generations. This has been our town since our grandfathers fought the Creek and won it. How can we run away from the graves of our fathers? When we leave this place we will not be able to come back, even if we make a stand in the mountains. I think we must stay as long as we can, stay in our houses, stay on our farms, until they force us out. Hummph.”

[i] This name and the other names of Coosawattee Town citizens are borrowed from  Don L. Shadburn, Cherokee Planters of Georgia, 1842-1838 (Cumming, Georgia: Don Shadburn, 1989), pp. 241-246. The personal characterizations are fictional.

December 1, 1838, on Crowley’s Ridge, in John Bell’s Day Log

29 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Events

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pair of deer in snowWhen we left Strong’s Inn this morning we followed the Military Road up a gradual incline to Crowley’s Ridge, which is the top of the bluffs along the river valley. We followed the ridge through wooded and hilly areas for several miles. The road stayed level, turning a little left and right, but not going up and down the steep ravines.

Not long after we reached the top of the bluff a doe and her fawn walked through the woods alongside the wagon train, about ten paces from the road. She kept walking alongside for at least two hands of time. Some wanted to shoot her, but my Udoda told them we had enough meat, and her feeling of safety with us was a good sign. Many of our people are Deer Clan. We can take their presence as a sign that helping spirits are with us on our journey. That reminded me of seeing the red wolf on the way to Ududu’s place, when I was feeling lost and weak. We feel blessed to have spirit helpers with us. It seems to be a rare and special event.

When the road turned west away from the bluff, the land became flat again. The trees changed from bare-of-leaf maples and brown-leafed oaks to pine woods bordering grass and marsh lands. In this flat area the road goes straight as an arrow. We can see all of the wagons stretched ahead of us for more than a mile. We didn’t go far today, before we set up camp. Those who stayed in the inn a second night will be able to catch up with us tomorrow.

On Crowley Ridge…the Trail of Tears

28 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Events, Travel

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Red Wolf2Snow and ice covered the roads on January 9, 2010, in Northeast Arkansas, so, true to southern pattern, few people ventured out, and the ranger at Village Creek State Park spent a lonely day in the visitor center. When I relied on my four-wheel-drive Jeep to navigate the hills and curves of the park, I was the only one to do so. The ranger doubted that I really wanted to drive two miles farther into the park, and walk the mile across the dam and into the woods, until I reached the last remnant of the original military road on Crowley Ridge. There the ancestors were among the 670 Cherokee travelers who followed the road west for 790 miles until they reached the Indian Territory that would “forever” be theirs for another forty years anyway.  But I was willing, and she gave me directions. There would be just enough time before sunset to make the journey.

Crossing the ice-covered dam tested my resolve,  as did the sound of dogs howling deep in the woods ahead, but I grabbed a straight branch for a walking stick, and walked on, following a marked trail, up and down the hills until I reached the ridge, and the simple historical marker. Only  a few miles remain of the original road, but I had time before sunset only to hike a mile of it before turning around to start back. The silence and the snow were sufficient to let me hear the distant echoes of  one hundred twenty wagons and carriages, pulled by teams of horses and oxen, accompanied by many walkers through the winter of 1838 and 1839. One hundred seventy years later, it was very quiet, but telling its story loudly.

I had turned around and started back when she joined me—a doe walking through the woods parallel to the road and about thirty feet away. She seemed curious about me, and as I did not threaten her, she walked along at that distance for about half a mile until she decided to amble down into the deep ravine.  I was glad for her company, and I could not help but think that all of the Bell ancestors of the Deer Clan would be pleased.

December 25, 1838 (from Our Land! Our People! a Trail of Tears Narrative )

06 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Seasons

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snow geese migration near St Elmo IL, Dave Moody 2

Flocks of Canada geese made lots of noise this morning to wake us up. We followed the Post Road today into a pine forest along the Illinois Bayou. Tomorrow we will follow the river upstream until we find an easier place to cross. We are not near a town now, just out in the middle of the woods.

Sarah remembers decorating for Christmas at the Moravian missions at Springplace and New Echota. The missionaries cut evergreen bows and brought them inside. They filled their chapels and houses with candlelight on this evening and the coming day to celebrate the birth of Jesus. We are outside among the pine trees and under the stars tonight, with a blazing fire to keep us warm. She says the story of Jesus began with Joseph and Mary taking a long trip to Bethlehem, ordered to do so by a distant government, and giving birth to Jesus in a stable. We are doing something like they did. I would enjoy the warmth of a stable tonight. Otherwise our night is much like theirs. It is a good starry night to remember that the Great Spirit is with us too.

…excerpts from Red Wolf’s (John Francis Bell’s) Day Log

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