In Alsey's Wake The road to Alsey's house was little more than two wagon ruts in the rainsoaked earth but Ooyaligatah knew the trail well. His father had died the year before, 'consumption' they had called it, leaving Ooyaligatah and his brother and sister alone with their mother on the hilltop home near the Baptist Mission. Ooyaligatah at age 13 had now become the man of the house, caught between the responsibilites of a man and the whims of youth. It was days like this that he often looked forward to. Sundays, when his mother and siblings would be at the Baptist Mission listening to the sermon of old John Jones left Ooyaligatah a morning of respite away from the chores of the family farm. His mother urged him to go with them as he understood English better than his mother, but she also understood that this boy who was forced to be a man much too early needed his 'alone time'. Alsey met him about the halfway mark between their farms. Alsey was 16 and was the big brother that Ooyaligatah so desperately needed at times. He was also his best friend. The two boys turned in their steps and turned off the road onto a path that led towards the creek. They traded punches and shoves and took turns throwing rocks at a nearby stump with Alsey winning the contest by striking the stump after only three tries. They continued on their way both silent and in anticipation. Which one would begin the race? The boys raced wherever they went. It was always a contest between them. Alsey, being the taller and longer legged of the two, was the stronger runner. Ooyaligatah was faster. They both knew each other's strengths and weaknesses and it was this that they based the start of the race on. A rabbit skirted the brush beside them. Ooyaligatah turned to look and with this momentary lapse of attention, Alsey was off. He had a good head start and was pulling ahead quickly, laughing over his shoulder towards his friend at his good fortune at such a jump on the race. Ooyaligatah put his head down and ran to catch up. The cows in old man Tickaneesky's field scurried out of their way as they tore down the path. Alsey leaped down the bank of the creek and landed half way across the stream while a few steps behind him, Ooyaligatah slid down the dirt bank and across the gravel bottom of the creek as Alsey jumped up the other side. They left the path and were now running the wagon road past Archilla Scraper's store. Up the hills and then down through the hollow past Peacheater creek. Alsey then turned towards their destination of the place they called 'the falls' on barren fork creek where all the pretty girls would be after church for their family picnics. Ooyaligatah's lungs were burning now as Alsey's long, effortless strides were increasing the distance between them. Someone had put up a fence about a mile from the end to their race and this is where his chance was to overtake Alsey. He knew Alsey would jump it more easily than himself and win the race. He knew he was beaten if he did not do something. He stooped down and picked up a rock almost in stride and just as Alsey was readying himself for his leap over the fence, he threw it and struck the fencepost. This distracted Alsey and he fell over the top strand of barbed wire, tearing his shin with the barbs and spilled onto the grass on the other side. Ooyaligatah jumped the fence and raced past Alsey reaching the campground a few yards ahead of his now bleeding and angered companion. Alsey came up and shoved him from behind sending him sprawling onto the dirt. The men at the campground turned to look at the sudden commotion and one of the women yelled, "Hlesdi!" Stop it! Then they realized it was the two constant companions and everyone relaxed as they now knew it was just another of the friendly contests between the two boys. Alsey bent over the cool water in the creek to quench the burning in his throat. Ooyaligatah dunked Alsey's head under water and everyone laughed as the two boys flipped one another into the creek amongst the smaller children swimming there, shrieking at the boys and their horseplay. The barbed wire fence was the recent addition by a white man named Doyle. He was an "Arkansawyer" who had married a Cherokee woman and had set up his farm there in the fertile creek bottoms bringing along the concept of fencing his land. This did not set well with the local Cherokee folks as most of them relied on an open range policy of grazing their animals. This was just one of the recent signals of change in Cherokee country. Changes in the wind that erupted into turmoil only a few years later. Ooyaligatah looked back towards the farm that they were leaving. He was driving the wagon his mother and his brother and sister were riding in as they were leaving the place behind for a safer place to live. The war between the whites had found it's way into Indian Territory last year and now was being fought in the Cherokee Nation. His uncles had all left to join with the other men from the Baptist Church to go fight with the newly formed Cherokee Mounted Rifles as part of the Southern Army. But after they had been sent to kill Ol'Gouge and his band of Creek refugees, most of these men had abandoned the Southern cause and had joined the Union army. Gouge eventually made it to Kansas but not before many of his people had died in the snow of that cold December in the early stages of the war. Now, the Cherokee Nation was split between those fighting for the North and those fighting for the South. In fact, the Cherokee Nation itself was in a civil war of it's own and when one of the neighbors had been burnt out and all their livestock stolen, the family decided to move south towards their cousins over by the mouth of the Illinois river and wait out the war in the hills there where many refugees were being fed by forces at Fort Gibson. It was not safe for anyone caught alone and defenseless at this time where brother had turned against brother. Ooyaligatah cracked the reins and they were off on their way. His mother cried silent tears, not just for the leaving of the homeplace, but in memory of another time when she as a child had also been forced to leave a place behind, and journey to what was called Indian Territory and now it was happening all over again. What would become of them this time? Would she ever see the place where her life had started over? Dark clouds rose on the western horizon, dark clouds of smoke and haze, the stench of gunpowder, and the smell of death. Ooyaligatah clicked his tongue and the horses quickened their steps. Alsey turned just as the bullet ripped into his shoulder. He fell backwards onto a couple of his now dead fellow soldiers. He picked himself up and found himself staring into the fixated unblinking eyes of his sergeant, bullets whizzing around his head, horses crying out in terror and pain as another cannonball landed in their midst and the clumps of dirt, bone and flesh flew through the air covering everyone left standing in the filth of the explosion. A bugle sounded and he knew the bluecoats were upon him somewhere through the smoke and haze. A horse sped by him and then another and then he felt the whack of a gun butt across the back of his neck. He rolled with the blow and now without a weapon and in the dizzying nausea of the moment stood in dazed confusion at the slaughter going on in front of him. At that moment he did the only thing he could. He ran. He ran through the smoke and the mud and over the dead grey bodies and the deafening din of the gunfire and shouting and cries of the dying and wounded. He ran towards the dimmed noon day sun hoping to find his way beyond the battleground and back towards Peacheater Creek, back towards Scraper's store, back towards the wagon path to his father's place. Back to some place of sanity and sanctity. He ran and began to have some hope that he would make it to a nearby wood and lose himself in the forest when he suddenly plunged headlong into a fence of razor sharp wire that tore at his flesh, lacerating his arms and wrapping around him as he twisted and spun and willed himself to rid himself of the quickly tightening coils. He looked up at the now completely smoke covered sun and began a chant when a flurry of gunfire found it's way into his back. In his mind he was running and his arms and legs moved in jerking movements as he began to sink towards the mud. At this moment he was running along a clear cold creek and the wind was in his hair and he was far ahead of his friend. And then the light became darkness and the cries faded away and he felt no pain, and then there was nothing except a muffled drum and the far away sound of shaking turtle shells. Ooyaligatah walked out of the church with his family in tow. "Thank you, Pastor," he said to the preacher as he nudged his children ahead out of the door of the church. "Will I see you with the others tomorrow night?" the preacher replied. The deacons and other men known as exhorters in the Baptist church always met on Monday nights to discuss community events. And politics. Ooyaligatah nodded his reply and walked away grabbing his son's hand as he caught his wife's eye looking out towards the adjacent field where some boys were racing their horses. The boys reined their horses to a stop and then raced up towards the beginning picnic being set out by the women. One of the boys was distancing the others in long graceful strides. He ran up to his mother who scolded him severely for his sudden entrance. Ooyaligatah smiled as he moved past the boy and ruffled his hair. "Siyo, Alsey," he said. "Maybe next week we'll see you at church?" The boy smiled back, Ooyaligatah catching the familiarity of the smile and the glint in his eyes when he nodded his agreement. The sun danced on the water of the nearby creek as a turtle quickly dove silently beneath the surface leaving only a quiet wake that he was ever there. |
In Alsey's Wake
© Wauhilau - June 2003
gathered from the net
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"Quest of the Turtle" midi courtesy of élan michaels
bead bar courtesy of Greasy Grass