The Adventures of Cherokee (3 page)

“Where is your father?” whispered Dancing Shadow.

“He has gone toward the camp and plans to fool Man into going in the wrong direction if they hear us,” answered Cherokee softly. “Have you thought of a plan of escape, Mother?” he asked.

“No, my son. Man has kept a careful eye on us. I am afraid that we will not escape this time. Whatever happens this night, promise me you will try to save your sister and her friend, Yellow Bird.” She looked up and back toward her herd. “We will move slowly in the direction of the mares. Unaca is near with Yellow Bird and Little Sister is with them. Come.”

Cherokee and his mother walked and grazed their way to the other horses. Man did not notice
there was one more horse in their midst.

But their movements were watched by every pair of eyes in the herd. Upon reaching the other horses, Unaca was waiting as were several others.

“Where is Flying Hawk?” asked Unaca.

“He is in the shadows on the far side of the camp and is planning to fool Man if it becomes necessary,” answered Dancing Shadow.

“What is our plan of escape?” asked the white mare.

“Whatever happens, Cherokee will take Yellow Bird and Little Sister and race for the trees. You and I and the rest of the horses will run back in the direction we came. We can join up later, once we’re free.”

“Mother?” whispered Cherokee.

“Yes, son.”

“It is time. Father should be ready.”

“Unaca,” whispered Dancing Shadow, “Pass the word that we are ready to run. Remember you and I and the herd will run to the east, toward home. Cherokee and the fillies will run to the south into the trees. Flying Hawk will pick his own direction and hope Man will chase him.”

As Unaca slipped away from Cherokee and his mother to tell the others of the escape plan, and the two fillies moved closer to Cherokee waiting anxiously, Dancing Shadow turned to her son and whispered, “Cherokee, remember your land, your home, your family. Have limits, but stretch your spirit. Good bye, my son.”

Suddenly Flying Hawk reared on his hind legs and whinnied loud and long. His piercing voice surprised the men on watch and raised the sleeping cowboys up from their blankets.

“Watch that stallion!” shouted J.D. “Grab your ropes and lasso him. Don’t let him get the herd!”

The mounted men rode after Flying Hawk as J.D. said. The others quickly bridled their horses, mounted bareback and raced after the scattering herd. At the same time the wild horses began to move around attempting to hide Cherokee and the two young fillies as they ran for the trees.

“Run fast, Little Sister!” shouted Cherokee. “Hurry, Yellow Bird! Faster!” Then they slipped out of sight into the dark woods.

As soon as Dancing Shadow saw they were safe, she whinnied to the herd and they started at a dead run to the east, heading for home. But in those few moments, two things happened. The wakened cowboys were already racing for the main herd of wild ones; Flying Hawk stumbled while he was running over an uneven patch of ground and nearly fell, giving the four mounted cowboys time to catch up with him and allowing two of them to drop their lassos over his neck.

In moments, the main herd was circled, slowed and returned to the small meadow. When the stallion discovered he was caught he settled down and allowed two of the men to place him between their horses and lead him back to camp with no trouble. Rolling his eyes, he saw that Cherokee and the two fillies had reached the edge of the trees and slipped out of sight. He was sad that the rest of his mares and colts had been recaptured, but there was still hope. He was with them now.

J.D. approached the men who were leading the stallion and said, “He is sure a beauty. Wonder why he made such a fuss instead of just trying to run off with the mares?”

“Don’t know, Boss,” answered one of the men. “But he’s a good catch. He’s got a brand. Prob’ly broke to the saddle, too.”

The men settled around the banked campfire once again, trying to get a little sleep. J.D. left only two men on watch, feeling that the herd was safe now that the stallion was captured. The men did not notice the fillies were missing.

-3-
Moving West
 

Cherokee slowed so the fillies could catch their breath. “Follow me farther into the woods, Little Sister. Sunee will meet us at the pine thicket. Come, Yellow Bird. Follow quietly behind me. Stay close.”

There was no danger of them not staying close. The young horses did not know why they had to leave their mothers. But they had been taught to obey their elders and to always do as they were told so they followed Cherokee without question.

Sunee was pacing back and forth, her head bobbing up and down, impatiently waiting for them to arrive. When the three horses moved into sight, she trotted toward them in welcome.

“There was so much noise!” whispered Sunee to Cherokee. “What happened? Did everyone escape?”

“No, Sunee,” reported Cherokee. “Even
Father was captured, but I don’t think anyone saw me leave with our sisters.”

“What should we do? Where will we go?” worried Sunee.

“Since everyone has been recaptured, let’s travel in the same direction as Man and our herd for a while. You and I had already talked about traveling west, so let’s continue at their pace. That way we can care for Yellow Bird and Little Sister as well.”

“Yes,” agreed Sunee.

She turned to the frightened fillies and spoke gently. “Hello, Yellow Bird. Welcome Little Sister. Be at peace. We will rest here in the woods for the night. When morning comes, we will get a drink from the river and follow our mothers.”

The two fillies were glad to see Sunee and soon bedded down to rest after their recent ordeal. They fell asleep almost immediately. Cherokee and Sunee remained awake and watchful.

Gradually the darkness began to recede and faint light began to appear in the east. The sky was first pink and then blue. When a small part of the sun began to peek over the mountains, Sunee nuzzled the fillies awake. All four horses watched and waited for Man to complete their preparations for another day of travel.

The men were in a hurry, moving the horse herd out more quickly than on previous days. They were tired of trail food and dust and sleeping on the ground and wanted to get home today. It would be good to get back to the ranch and their bunkhouse. Cookie could make the best steak and biscuits! And his apple pie was so tangy and tasty!

By early afternoon they were just short of Fort Nashboro, located directly on the Cumberland River. They planned to cross the river a mile or so up and head north toward the ranch. As they turned north toward the Cumberland River, they heard the sound of many horses approaching at a gallop. Twenty or so horses and riders appeared around the bend in the trail on the other side of the river.

“Hey, on the other side!” hailed one of the
men.

“Hey, yourself,” answered J.D.

“Hold your herd until we cross. We have news.”

After the horses had satisfied their thirst, J.D. instructed his men to move them back from the river. He eyed the approaching men carefully. “They look like farmers and mountain men,” he thought. “Probably the ones called Volunteers,’ conscripted to fight and protect their lands.” There had been trouble between the North and the South since 1820. He knew these men didn’t want to take sides. They just wanted to farm and hunt as had their fathers before them. It seemed as though every man was pressed into battles he did not want.

As the horses splashed through the water, he had time to notice that some of the Volunteers were dressed in fringed buckskins and boots. Some were wearing plaid shirts and coveralls and farm boots. All of them were carrying rifles or muskets.

The man who led them had shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. His buckskins and boots were beaded; his hat was decorated with beads and feathers.

The men reached J.D.’s side of the river, dismounted and stretched tired legs.

“We just came from Fort Nashboro,” said one man, obviously the spokesman for the group. “Sorry,” he said, offering his hand. “My name is Bill Hanks. These men and I have just come from a meeting with General Thomas. We hear Lieutenant Bragg has holed up with his men on Lookout Mountain. We’ve been sent to check out the situation and report back as soon as we can. You came from that way. Did you see anything?”

“No,” drawled J.D. “We just went horse huntin’ and came back through a little this side of Chattanooga. Sorry we can’t tell you anything.”

“Well, General Hooker thinks we need to take the summit and maybe that will end this War between the States.”

“We’ll hope so,” replied J.D. “No need for us to be a fightin’ each other. Makin’ a livin’ is enough of a fight for most of us.”

“You bet! Guess we’ve rested long enough, boys,” said Hanks. “Let’s mount up!” The men did as they were told, turning their horses, throwing legs over saddles, horses at a full gallop before the men were completely seated.

As they disappeared out of sight, J.D. said, “Let’s move on, fellas. Might as well push these horses into the river right here and take ‘em on home! Johnnie, why don’t you ride ahead and let Cookie know we’re comin’ home for supper?”

Johnnie whipped off his hat and slapped his horse on the thigh. “Yahoo!” yelled Johnnie as his horse jumped into a hard gallop.

Cherokee and Sunee watched their friends and family walk into the Cumberland River, followed by the cowboys who had rounded them up only a few short days before. Sadly they walked out of the woods and followed in the footsteps of those they knew and loved.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, the
men trotted the horses over a rise in the trail.

“Home!” shouted J.D.

Pushing the horses into a gallop they raced for the corral, whooping and shouting. By the time they arrived, farm hands had opened the gates and made way for the wild horses to enter.

Marty had been assigned earlier to lead the stallion and now he was having trouble keeping him from entering the corral with the rest of the herd. Flying Hawk was putting up a good fight. Shaking his head, trying to lose the lasso from around his neck, stamping his front hooves, fighting for freedom. But Marty had a good hold on him and his horse was used to working with unruly horses. Together they got the stallion under control.

“Put him in the round pen next to them, but tie him.” directed J.D. “Turn him loose and he will just try to free his herd and himself.”

“Right, Boss,” said Marty.

J.D. and the cowboys turned their horses loose in another corral, hung their saddles and bridles on the fence, stretched and headed for the bunkhouse.

“Wonder what Cookie has for supper?” one of the men asked. “I shore could use a good, hot meal and an uninterrupted night’s sleep.”

“Couldn’t we all.” commented Marty. “Well, it’s getting dusk. Let’s wash up and be ready when that dinner bell rings.”

It wasn’t long until they were all sitting down at a long split log table with wooden benches on each side. On the table there were two large pans of fried chicken, a bushel of biscuits, and mounds of mashed potatoes and gallons of gravy, or so it seemed. There was steaming corn on the cob and plenty of fresh butter to put on it. The food was blessed and the men dug in. As soon as a serving dish emptied, Cookie brought in another one. Bellies full, they leaned back some to get breathing room. That’s when Cookie brought in the coffee and tart apple pies for dessert. There were a few groans, but no body turned down the pie! For these men, the table was not for talking. It was for eating. When finished they stood, thanked Cookie and headed outside for some fresh air, a smoke and a little conversation.

Bobby Knight, owner of the Bar B Ranch, propped his right foot up on the railing of the porch and sighed. “You men did a good job, alright,” he said. “I believe I recognize that chocolate stallion. My brother used to own one a few years back. He lives in Kentucky. I need to check the brand and then I’ll know for sure.”

“What’s your brother’s brand, Boss?” asked
J.D.

“The Flying K,” he responded.

“Well, I believe you’re in luck. That’s what’s on ‘im,”

“Let’s go out and look at ‘im.” suggested Bobby.

Finished with their smokes, the men followed Bobby out to the stallion’s corral. “Take off the rope halter, fellas,” he said. “He’s pretty settled. Maybe feels a little like home. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble now.”

Marty walked up to Flying Hawk and slipped off the halter, letting the horse free for the first time in many hours. The stallion backed up quickly. He shook his head, turned around and bucked a couple of times, then trotted around the corral, loosening up his tight muscles. He laid down on the ground and rolled, scratching the itches on his back. He stood, shook off the dust and looked around. It felt good to be free from the halter and rope. The men enjoyed watching him. Every movement was graceful and full of spirit.

“I can see why my brother turned him loose,” said Bobby. “It would be a shame to keep that fellow penned up any time at all.”

The mares and colts began to mill around and call to the stallion when he was freed. One mare in particular walked boldly to the fence separating her from the big horse. The men watched as the spotted mare and the stallion rubbed noses across the fence and nickered softly to each other.

“I have missed you,” said Dancing Shadow.

“And I you,” answered Flying Hawk. “Do you have water? Food? Are you well cared for?” he asked her.

“Yes. Little Sister and Yellow Bird escaped with Cherokee and Sunee. Because of last winter’s bad storms, there were not many colts born to us, so we tried to protect what we could.”

“Yes, I saw them enter the forest in safety. I do not know these men, but one is familiar. Perhaps we will not be as bad off as we might have been.”

“I do not like it,” whinnied Dancing Shadow, stomping her foot. “I want to be free!”

“As do we all,” replied the stallion. “But remember Grandfather’s lesson. When captured we must serve man with a willing heart. It is your responsibility to tell the others to do as
Asga ya galun Latí
and Grandfather tells us. Will you do that, Dancing Shadow?”