The Adventures of Cherokee

© Copyright 2005 Nancy Johnson.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book is available from Library and Archives Canada at
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ISBN 1-4120-3460-4

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4

Contents

-1-
Captured
 

-2-
No Escape
 

-3-
Moving West
 

-4-
The Bar B Ranch
 

-5-
A Big Mistake
 

-6-
U Tso Nati
 

-7-
Indians
 

-8-
A Thanksgiving Feast
 

-9-
The Great Mississippi River
 

-10-
A New Land
 

-11-
 

-12-
A New Experience
 

-13-
Shadow Words
 

-14-
Tso Tsi Da Na Wa, The Enemy
 

-15-
O Gi Na Li I, Old Friend
 

Bibliography
 

COVER BY:

Andre’ K. Kalufanya

Graphic Artist

Jacksonville, Florida

[email protected]

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO

Zoo-chow-wanagi-mee-o-soo

Snake Brother Spirit Guardian

So named by his grandmother,

the youngest daughter of Chief Joseph

of the Nez Perce Indians

This man has been invaluable

with his assistance

in Cherokee and Nez Perce Indian

terminology and names

He has guided me through Indian ways

and

proof read all the material

Thank You Maynard Cox

for allowing me to call you

FRIEND

THUNDER ON THE MOUNTAIN

Roaring... soaring

Rumbling free;

Hoof beats thunder on the mountain side.

Spirits set free

On life’s great ride.

Tiffany Irvine

BOOK CHARACTERS

DEFINITION OF TERMS/NAMES

-1-
Captured
 

Dancing Shadow raised her head, ears up, her body tense. She searched the meadow and surrounding area, looking for Cherokee, her son. She spotted young colts playing too far from the herd, and even though it was a peaceful day, she began to worry. The other mares, instincts not as fine tuned as Dancing Shadow’s, were grazing on the fall grasses or drinking from the river. Flying Hawk, the herd stallion, was not in sight.

Suddenly she heard the thunder of hooves and the yells and whistles of Man! Dancing Shadow snorted an alarm! Tossing her head, she neighed a warning. But it was too late! There were many men. The wild horses were quickly circled on three sides and driven at a hard gallop away from the river, down the valley toward the west. There was no time for the mares to look for their colts or save themselves. The men continued to push the wild ones faster and faster, yelling, whooping and waving their hats and lariats, driving them in a frenzy. After many miles the men slowed their mounts and let all the horses stop for a breather. It was evening. The sun had slipped beneath the horizon and it was time to rest. Some of the cowboys dismounted, ground tied their horses and looked over the group of mares and colts.

“Nice bunch of horses,” said one man.

“Yep,” said another. “Didn’t we see a couple of two year olds yesterday?”

“I thought there was. Let’s keep on the lookout for ‘em. They might just come lookin’ for their kin. There’s a big chocolate stallion that stays close, too.”

The two year old horses in question were Cherokee, a chocolate and white pinto stallion, 16 hands (a hand being 4 inches) at the shoulder,

and Sunee, a tall buckskin mountain filly who was his friend. The chocolate stallion was Cherokee’s father, Flying Hawk, the leader of the herd.

“Marty, you and Johnnie take first watch, while the rest of us fix coffee, beans and biscuits and take care of our horses,” suggested J.D.

“Right,” said Marty.

As Marty and Johnnie remounted, the other men unsaddled their horses, hobbled them and set up camp for the night.

Marty rode a tight circle around the frightened colts and their mothers, whistling a soft mournful tune; Johnnie rode in the opposite direction, causing them to meet once each time around. The colts had found their mothers. Some were nursing; some were standing quietly beneath their mother’s necks; some were stretched out full length on the ground, getting a well needed rest.

In three hours, J.D. and another cowboy relieved Marty and Johnnie, so they could rest their horses and get some coffee and supper, too.

The two tired young men looked first to the care of their horses, then put their saddles next to the fire, ready for sleep. As soon as supper was finished, they leaned back onto their saddles and closed their eyes.

J.D. was head wrangler on this trip. He was part Cherokee Indian and grew up on his daddy’s farm in southwest Tennessee. The farm was small, their cash crop tobacco. But horses were his main love. J.D. had learned of the Bar B ranch north of Nashboro, early in life and wanted to work there. The owner was well known and the fact that he gentled animals instead of breaking them was a plus in J.D.’s book. He’d been working for the Bar B now for five years and was here in fact, after wild horses, hoping to add a few brood mares to the ranch, and perhaps a young stallion for new blood.