Legend upon the Cane (2 page)

Natchitos did the same as his brother. He
went to the hut of Nashoba, or Running Wolf, father of Taima. He
asked Running Wolf for his daughter’s hand in marriage. If Running
Wolf should grant his permission, on the third morning Natchitos
would find blessings outside his door.

On the third morning, Nakahodot and
Natchitos rushed outside their home. Blessings from both families
had been placed outside their door, signifying their acceptance
from both families.

On the day that both sons were to marry
their betrothed, a great gathering was held in front of the sacred
fire as the sun rose to the top of the sky. The two brothers stood
together in front of their father, and chief of the tribe, Caddo.
Nakahodot stood with long, flowing, dusty-brown hair. Natchitos
stood with his long flowing black hair. The women of the tribe
chanted and danced as they escorted the two young squaws to their
wedding. Both of them were dressed in light gray skins that fell to
their feet. They wore decorative moccasins that were only worn on
such special occasions. They wore colorful beads, woven onto their
clothes, and in their hair that was braided long and black.
Nakahodot and Natchitos watched curiously as the women proceeded
through the village, singing and chanting. A slow, ceremonial
drumbeat was heard throughout the village as they walked.

The families of the women stood behind each
of them. Each woman stood before her betrothed. The two beautiful
young women smiled faintly as they stared at the ground in front of
them. As Caddo spoke, Taima raised her head and gave a quick smile
to Natchitos, then looked down again when her mother quietly
snitched at her.

“The wedding of a father’s son is always a
joyous day,” Caddo began. “For a father to see his two sons at
their wedding is beyond words. It pleases me to see this day has
come.” He looked at his first son. “Nakahodot, Atohi has granted
his blessing for you to take his daughter, Calanele, into your
home. You will make her your wife and you will honor and protect
her all of your days.” His son nodded as he stared downward.

Then Caddo looked at Natchitos, “Natchitos,
Running Wolf has granted his blessing for you to take his daughter,
Taima, into your home. You will make her your wife and you will
honor and protect her all of your days.” Natchitos looked at his
father and nodded.

“This is a special day for me and your
mother,” Caddo continued. “May this day be remembered by all the
Caddo.”

A great celebration began that lasted the
rest of the afternoon and throughout the night. The wedding of the
chief’s two sons was a joyous occasion that all of the tribe’s
people would remember.

Three years had passed when Aiyana fell ill
in the coldest days of winter. Caddo stayed by her side night and
day as she fought a fever that gripped her entire body. And, on the
fourth day of her struggle, Aiyana passed away. Sadness spread
among the tribe. Caddo was inconsolable with grief and despair. He
could not even gather the strength to carry his wife’s body on the
solemn procession to lay her to rest, far into the forest. He asked
his two sons to carry their mother for him, to take her body to the
place where the ‘great spirit’ would come to take her away. A
period of mourning lasted for three days among the entire
tribe.

Chief Caddo was never the same after the
passing of his beloved wife. His sons would try to comfort him, but
their attempts were futile. As time went on, both brothers started
families of their own along the Sabine River. Taima had given birth
to her first born, a son, she and Natchitos named Anoki. Natchitos
began to teach their son as his father had taught him.

One night, in the middle of summer, word
spread throughout the tribe that their chief had grown ill in his
old age. Nakahodot and Natchitos rushed to their father’s home to
be at his side. Caddo gasped for air as he lay on his bed.
Natchitos tried to keep a fire lit to help his father stay warm.
The two sons sat at his side the rest of the evening and into the
night.

As the two men sat in silence with their
father, Caddo spoke to them in a weak voice, “My sons, my time has
come and soon I will reunite with your mother. My soul has ached
for her and now it is time to meet her once again.” His two sons
listened to him with sadness in their eyes. “The ‘great spirit’ has
provided a fruitful land by the river. But, now it is time for the
tribe to find a new land.” Nakahodot and Natchitos looked at each
other in surprise.

Caddo continued, “Soon, you will both be
leaders of the Caddo. My sons, I ask of you this final wish. On the
day of my passing, I ask that both of you gather your family and
their families and go and settle in new lands. Do not mourn me for
three days. Instead, I ask for you to remember me in another way.”
Both sons listened intently to their father. “Nakahodot, I ask that
you travel for three days towards the setting sun. On the third
day, you will stop and settle in the new land and rear a
tribe.”

Then, Caddo looked at Natchitos. “Natchitos,
I ask that you travel for three days towards the rising sun. On the
third day, you will stop and settle in the new land and rear a
tribe. The ‘great spirit’ willing, you will both find your way to
one another once again, thus continuing the sacred bond of the
Caddo. What I ask of you, was done by me, and my father before me.
Now, I am asking this of you. This is the only way to ensure the
lasting of the Caddo.” Both sons sat and thought about what their
father had said. They both looked at each other and silently nodded
to their father and to one another.

Natchitos looked at his father and said, “We
shall honor your request, Father. It will be done.” Later that
night, Chief Caddo breathed his last.

Both sons did as their father had asked
them. With the efficiency of a military garrison, the entire tribe
had gathered everything and prepared for the long journey.

Nakahodot gathered his and Calanele’s family
and other tribal families. They numbered about forty-five in all.
Natchitos, in turn, gathered his wife and son, Taima’s extended
family, and the remaining members of the tribe. In all, they
numbered about thirty-five.

The two brothers stood facing one another.
They clasped their arms together in the tribe’s traditional
way.

“Are you certain this is the right thing for
us to do? Together, we form a more formidable tribe, do we not?”
Nakahodot asked his brother.

“We must honor our father in life and in
death,” Natchitos responded. “The ‘great spirit’ will guide us and
give us strength. He will guide us to the proper place for
mourning. We will know when we have found it. Then, mourning will
turn to joy.”

Natchitos looked at his brother and said, “I
will always think of you, brother. Whenever the sun sets, my
thoughts will be with you.”

“Go in peace, my brother,” Nakahodot
said.

With that, both men gathered their tribes
and began their journey. Nakahodot traveled west and Natchitos
traveled east.

Natchitos traveled through the forests and
over the rolling hills on the eastern side of the Sabine River. The
trees were tall and many in number. Occasionally, they would find
open fields with ample grain. They stopped only to rest and
retrieve water from small ponds and streams.

The sun grew hot as they walked on. On the
third day, they continued to walk through a thick forest of trees.
Soon, they came upon the crest of a hillside. Natchitos stopped to
look out over the view. Below the hill was a narrow river that
winded calmly towards the south. The river stretched as far as he
could see in both directions. They slowly walked down the hill to
the banks of the river. Tall, thick stalks of cane grew along the
banks.

Natchitos looked at Taima
and then at the rest of the tribe. He nodded to himself.
“We have made it, Father. This is the proper place
for our tribe,”
he said to
himself.

Taima put her arm into his. “We should not
walk any longer,” she said to him. “This is the place where we
should stay and make our home.”

“
Yes, this is where the
‘great spirit’ has been leading us,” Natchitos agreed.

He turned to the tribe and spoke, “We will
wander no further. We will settle our tribe here.” From that day
forth, the river became known as the ‘waters of the cane’.

1701 - Thirteen Years Later

It was early morning in late summer when the
Indian chief made his way up a narrow trail that led to the top of
a small cliff. It was the same trail he had walked each morning,
rain or shine, for over a decade now. The trail was narrow with
tall strands of grass on either side, flowing back and forth in the
breeze. The top of the hill was shaded by large trees and a few
clouds from overhead.

This day he was weary from two straight
months in the fields trying to salvage what they could from the
corn and bean fields. They were able to save most of the corn and
some of the beans, but the hot sun, with little rain, assured them
of no tobacco or even pumpkins in the fall.

He sat cross-legged on the
top of the cliff, overlooking the calm river that wandered through
his tribe’s village. Natchitos faced the rising sun coming over the
horizon. He liked to sit and watch as the wind blew softly through
the tall trees all around him. He was now a man of about thirty
years. He had seen great battles and lived to tell stories about
them. His skin was dark and had grown worn from the wind and dry
summers. But he was wise beyond his years and knew how to handle
the hard times that his tribe had faced. His thoughts were deep, as
usual, thinking about many things, but mostly of how his family and
fellow tribesman could withstand this land for much longer on so
little food. The years had gone by with success in growing fields
of corn and beans, but now things had changed in the skies. The
weather was becoming too harsh to keep the crops alive. Each summer
had grown hotter, and the rains were not coming as often. This
weighed heavy on his mind. But also he thought of his brother, and
wondered if he and his family were faced with such challenges as
well.
“Surely they must,”
he thought.

Natchitos sat calmly,
staring out across the land, when a sudden gust of wind came upon
him. A dove stirred from its roost and flew past him. The wind
calmed and blew softly for only a few moments more. But, he felt as
though the wind, or someone, was tapping him on the shoulder. He
looked up and the down the river, but saw nothing. It soon stopped
and then he fixed his gaze once again out across the land in front
of him, occasionally drawing his finger in the dirt around him.
Suddenly he heard a call from below in the village. “Father!” was
the cry from below, in a sharp, yet hushed voice. Natchitos looked
to see Anoki, his oldest son, pointing frantically upriver.
Natchitos looked to his left to see two small rafts, carrying five
white men each, coming slowly downriver. He immediately remembered
encounters with two other white explorers several years earlier.
The one he remembered hearing about was called, LaSalle.
“They did not show us harm,”
he thought.
“They only passed through
this area, nothing more. But why do they come now again?”
His instincts felt differently, as he watched them
slowly near the village. His thoughts were confirmed when he
spotted an Indian guide riding along with the white men.

Natchitos made his way down the cliff back
into the village. Anoki was now beside himself with fear and
anxiety, waving towards Natchitos to come more quickly. Natchitos
could see the rest of the tribe was also well aware of the
foreigner’s presence. He motioned to his wife Taima to take the
children inside the hut and made the same gesture to the rest of
the tribe looking on.

“
Anoki, be calm, it is
alright. It is Buffalo Tamer, I know him. He has a good heart. I
will go and talk with him,” Natchitos said.

But Anoki persisted, “But Father, who are
the white men with him? I would not trust them so quickly. There
are so many!”

“
I will take Tooantuh with
me,” Natchitos said. At the same moment, Tooantuh was already
striding along with him towards the river shore. Tooantuh was
Natchitos’ closest and most trusted companion. He was known as a
fierce and fearless fighter and an excellent hunter. He took pride
in providing big game for the tribe. But he had little patience for
intruders, not as much as the trusting Natchitos.

The travelers were paddling their rafts
towards the west shore, where Natchitos and Tooantuh stood. All the
men sat in both rafts, except for one man in the first raft. He
stood with one foot upon the bow, with one hand resting on his
knee, the other hanging at his side. Tooantuh looked intently for
any sign of weapons, but saw none. Their casual approach showed no
sense of attack. Yet still, his arrows rested on his back at the
ready. Natchitos stood with a wooden staff in his left hand. He
could see the man up front plainly now. He observed how he was
dressed, long dark trousers with black boots and a dark blue
overcoat, with a white ruffled shirt protruding through the top of
his coat. He wore a black triangle hat, with the point just to the
left of his head. Their appearance seemed very odd to Natchitos and
Tooantuh, considering the days hot sun and how many pelts it must
have taken to fashion such clothing.

As the raft came to rest in
the mud and grass on the riverbank, the standing man stepped down
to the ground in front of Natchitos and Tooantuh, a mere ten yards
in front of them. Natchitos raised his right hand in front of him,
as if to say, “
That’s far
enough!”