Teacher

Tom felt a clenching in his belly and an unreasonable surge of fear. He snorted and shook his head in disgust at himself. He looked around then urged his animals forward. The horse and mules did not want to enter the strange shimmer. Tom forced them forward demanding they move down the trail. As they entered the cut Tom felt strange. His body chilled and his vision blurred. The sun even seemed to dim for a moment. Tom felt a twisting sensation then they moved out of the shimmer and into the valley. It was just as beautiful and peaceful as he remembered. To his surprise however, Tom found himself surrounded by Indians dressed in old buckskin clothes. They carried bows and arrows, tomahawks and many belongings. There were horses pulling travois as well as some of the people pulling travois.

When he appeared in their midst, seemingly from nowhere, the Indians yelled as if in fear and pulled back with an uproar. The men moved toward Tom with arrows ready to fire. One of the men spoke in Cherokee and asked Tom who he was and how he got there without them seeing him.

Tom looked at the people in shock. Then he turned and looked back the way he came. He could not see the shimmer from this direction. He shook his head, turned back to the front and urged his animals forward until he got nearer the man who spoke to him.

Tom said, "I'm Tom Eagle. I came from Cherokee to camp here in my valley. Who are you people and what are you doing here?"

"We are the people. We come to camp here also. How did you appear among us? Why are you dressed so strangely? Are you a spirit come to visit with us?"

"What? Are you nuts? OH, Tom said catching on. He had come upon a group of re-enactors. Hell, he could play that game also. He continued almost without pause, "Yes, I am a spirit from the happy hunting ground. I have come to be with you for a short time. Now I go to make my camp near the waterfall where I can work my magic, heal my soul, and rid myself of my sorrows and bad memories."

The Indians within hearing murmured upon hearing Tom speak. Many of them moved a few steps back as they looked upon him in awe. The Indian who challenged Tom smiled and motioned Tom onward as he said, "Pass in peace, Great One. May your journey be safe and your quest successful."

Tom smiled, raised his hand in farewell, and rode on toward his usual camping spot. He decided not to make an issue of the group trespassing on his families land. The group of Indians opened a path for him and watched respectfully as he departed. After riding several feet past the still watching Indians, Tom turned to look at them once again. He again smiled as he thought what a hoot it would be to watch what he assumed were modern city people trying to play at being Indians. Tom chuckled to himself as he moved away from the small group. He hoped he gave the re-enactors something they could use in their games. He never noticed the deference and reverence they showed him as he left.

Tom decided the shimmer he had seen when he entered the valley was a result of some strange fog rising from the stream and the sun hitting it just right. The hum was probably the wind blowing through the cut and or some vegetation.

The valley seemed different somehow to Tom. The air seemed clearer, fresher and the vegetation seemed more robust. Tom moved down the valley to where the stream tumbled down from the upper hills. There was a small waterfall of perhaps twenty feet dropping into a deep pool filled with trout. Beside the pool was a beautiful little grassy area. There was a small cave opening to the grassy meadow in the limestone bluff over which the water fall flowed. The cave was perhaps ten feet wide and fifteen feet deep. It was really more of an undercut in the bluff than a cave. The opening was only about five feet wide. Tom could walk upright into the cave with only a couple of inches to spare over his head. At one time there had been a log enclosure, a three sided cabin, in front of the cave. It was long fallen down but the remains were still there on his last visit. This time the area was clear of any indication of construction. Once again Tom wondered what was going on. It had only been five years since he was here before and the remaining logs should have still been noticeable.

Tom mentally shrugged and pitched his tent on a level space in front of the cave. He stored his possessions inside the cave. He picketed his animals on the lush grass after he watered them. He removed his shirt and sat in the shade to relax. He watched the Indians make their camp far down the valley near the passage he rode through into the valley.

After resting for a while, Tom took his axe and moved out to cut wood for his fires. When he had his firewood cut for the next couple of days Tom got his fishing gear and moved to the pool to catch his supper and breakfast. In no time at all Tom caught four nice trout. He put the fish on his stringer and stopped fishing. Tom returned to his relaxing and watched the sun sink behind the western mountains before he prepared his evening meal of fried potatoes and onions, fried fish and pork and beans.

To Tom's surprise the next morning when he got up the Indian camp was gone. The only indication they had been there was the mashed down grass, some fire pits and ashes and a little refuse. They disappeared without a trace otherwise. It didn't seem worth it to Tom for them to play the Indian game and walk all this way just to camp for one night. He shrugged his shoulders and decided it was their business. The whole encounter had been strange. He still couldn't figure out why they insisted on speaking only Cherokee during their conversation. That was carrying realism too far in his opinion.

The next three days were perfect. Tom could feel the tension draining from his body. Every morning and evening he could see wild turkey and deer eating in the meadow. He decided early on the fourth morning he was going to poach a little game. He decided to get a turkey first and then a deer if he could.

Tom took his rifle and moved toward the spot he had picked out for his stand. He settled in just as dawn was breaking. There were no turkeys in sight so Tom decided to take a deer instead. Within a few minutes Tom saw the deer he wanted and took aim. Tom took a breath, let half out and squeezed the trigger. The deer dropped immediately and didn't move. Tom stood and began walking toward the deer when he saw three men dressed in buckskins move toward his deer also.

Tom moved a little faster toward his kill then stared at the men. They were dirty and rough looking with longer hair much as the group had been the day he arrived. They were also carrying wooden bows. From the looks of the men they came from the reservation and were full blood or nearly full blood Cherokee. It was not unknown to find Indians in the mountains, but it was rare to see them dressed in the old clothes and in his valley. He wondered if there was a convention of re-enactors or just why so many Indians seemed to be in the area. He was sure his parents would have told him if there was a Pow Wow scheduled for this week.

Tom walked toward the men only to see them suddenly turn toward him and raise their bows. Tom stopped and said, "Whoa, there. What's the problem? Don't be pointing those bows at me." To be safer Tom chambered a round in his rifle and got it in a better position to be used in a hurry.

The men looked at one another then back to Tom. The one in the front spoke to Tom in Cherokee. Tom was surprised, but answered in the same language. His Cherokee was rusty and the Indians were speaking in a strange variant of the language but Tom understood them as he had those he encountered the day he arrived in the valley.

The lead Indian said, "Who are you and why are you in our valley? Why did you kill our game?"

"Whoa there, partner," Tom responded in Cherokee. "This is my family's valley. We've owned it for almost 120 years now. I think you're lost if you think this is your valley."

"No, this whole area belongs to the Cherokee and has for many moons. No one family can own this spot."

Another Indian dressed as a shaman ran up to the group and insinuated himself between the men and Tom. He said, "Oh, Great Spirit, you are still here. We come only to camp for a while if that is permissible. I spoke with the Shaman from the other tribe and he said you were here and friendly. Is it permissible for us to stay for a short while? I promise we will not interfere with your work, oh Great One."

This did not make sense to Tom at all. None of the equipment the Indians carried looked right, or rather it all looked too right, too authentic. All their equipment looked handmade and was well worn but in good repair. Their buckskins and moccasins were obviously hand made from poorly tanned hides. He was beginning to think he had come across some people who were pretending to live in the old way. He felt as if the Indians were playing this charade way too authentically, however. It was almost as if they actually believed what they said. Tom laughed and said, "Sure, no problem, but I expect you to honor my privacy and not trash up my valley."

Tom heard a noise coming from the foot of the valley and turned that direction. He saw a larger group of Indians come through the cut and into the valley. There were a few horses but most of the people were walking. There were women, children, men, and dogs galore. Many of the people were pulling travois. They moved toward the opposite edge of the valley and quickly began setting up camp. Tom watched in fascination as they did so.

The man dressed as the shaman said, "It shall be so, Great One." He turned to the three men confronting Tom and began trying to get them to move on and leave Tom alone.

Finally Tom mentally shook himself and moved to cut the deer's throat then he gutted it. The Indians watched him for a moment then moved toward the forest obviously hunting more venison. Before he was done working on the deer a small cluster of children were standing around quietly talking among themselves while they watched him work.

Tom picked the deer up and walked toward the new camp. When he got there many of the men picked up their bows and arrows to watch him enter. Tom walked up to a large man that appeared to be in charge. He dropped the deer and held his hand out to shake. The man looked at the hand then at Tom.

Tom started talking in English but no one seemed to understand him. At least they acted as if they didn't understand. Finally in desperation, even slight anger, he switched to Cherokee once again. Faces lit up with understanding when they heard Cherokee and the men around him seemed to relax. The women and children returned to whatever they had been doing.

The man in charge motioned toward a spot in front of his dwelling and sat. Tom watched a moment. The Shaman gently guided Tom beside the Chief and motioned for him to sit, also. Tom took a seat beside the Chief and the Shaman sat across from Tom and the Chief. As the conversation continued Tom became more confused. The chief and men insisted they had never seen clothes such as Tom wore and weapons such as his rifle. They had seen a few whites, but very few. Many of the whites they saw were not friendly, either. They insisted they had been camping in this valley for years and wanted to know why Tom was there. Was he really there to make his magic and heal? If he was healing, what was wrong with him? He looked well.

Tom said, "I have been across the sea and seen a great number of battles and much injury and death. I have healed those I could but now I need the peace and quiet I find here to heal my soul." Tom was rather proud of that statement. He felt it fit in with the re-enactment they were obviously trying to have and yet it truly explained why he was here.

The men looked at one another and the Shaman asked, "You are a great Medicine Man also? Can you heal for us if there is need?"

"Well, yes, but I'm not a doctor. I am a medic in the army. I'm just here on leave. I'll be happy to help if I can, though. Do you have someone in need of healing right now?"

The men looked confused when Tom began talking but by the time he finished they seemed better. They heard him agree to heal and began nodding their heads and smiling. The chief said, "No, we have no need of you now."

A woman walked up and deferentially asked, "What should we do with the Spirit's deer?" All the men looked at Tom.

Tom smiled and decided to stay in the role he cast for himself. He said, "You may use my deer for the meal you are preparing. It will be my gift for you this day to welcome you to my valley."

The woman almost bowed when Tom told her she could cook the deer. She rapidly left and got another woman to help her with the deer. It was almost full dark before Tom stood and returned to his camp. He didn't know what to make of his encounter with the Indians. On one hand he believed what they told him, but on the other it was impossible. They all seemed to have a great imagination and stayed in the roles they were playing very well. The next day Tom stayed in his camp except for a short trip to the meadow to shoot a turkey. He watched as the Indians took a couple turkeys and three more deer the next morning. They stayed in camp four days before, early on the fifth day, packing and moving off once again. Tom was again alone in his valley.

Much too soon the time to leave the peaceful valley and return to civilization arrived. Reluctantly, Tom packed his belongings and moved to the cut between the hills to leave his valley. He rode out of the cut and began moving toward his parent's home once again. The forest seemed different this time. The trees were larger and there was not as many open areas as he remembered. None of the trails and roads he remembered were present.

Tom rode all day and deep into the dusk. He should have been in sight of the little settlement and his parent's home by now. He had seen nothing. Not a vehicle, not a fence or road or building was present. Tom began worrying. In fact, Tom became scared, very scared. Finally, at almost full dark Tom arrived at the location he was positive should contain the store. There was nothing there at all except the small stream the store was built beside.

Tom gave up and pitched his tent for the night. The next morning Tom rose with the sun and began exploring. He found nothing familiar at all. Late that afternoon Tom came across an old man dressed in buckskins. He was carrying a flintlock rifle and had a pack on his back. Tom stared in surprise at the authenticity this re-enactor displayed in his dress and weapons. He was not sure, now, that he was even a re-enactor but the other possibility was too frightening to consider.

When Tom approached the man he was faced with suspicion. After Tom assured the man he was friendly the man said, "You shore do look and talk strange there, Tom. 'Cept fer yore clothes ya looks like a Injin. Where 'bouts ya from?"

Tom explained he lived right there. The man looked around, spit, then said, "Ya jus live here in tha trees? Doncha gots no cabin nor lean to? Ya'll gets mighty cold in the winter if'n ya don't."

Tom sat and stared at the man. They continued talking as the afternoon wore on. Finally, Tom became convinced he was in real trouble. The man insisted that, to the best of his recollection, the year was 1833 and it was sometime in the mid-summer but he didn't know the month or day. He said, "I left Charleston summer of '31, it was. I been moving ever since. This is the second summer since I left so I knows it be '33, but I just lost track of months and days, I have. I find a spot and sit a spell and when the mood strikes me I move off again. Sure don't see many folks out here in the woods 'cept for the injins. I seen them many times. Some is friendly but most aint. Every so often I gets me a squaw for a while but they either mostly get used up or I sells em."

Finally Tom and the old man went to sleep. When Tom woke the next morning the man was gone. Tom looked around for a moment then decided to return to his valley. This time when he made the trip there was only a very faint, almost unnoticeable shimmer in the entrance to the valley. This shimmer was like the ones Tom remembered from the past.

Tom moved into the valley and to his camping spot. Once again he set up camp and then fell into his bed in exhaustion. For the next several weeks Tom took almost weekly trips out of the valley to explore. He went to all the nearest places he remembered habitation. He found no buildings or evidence of civilization in all his trips. He even returned twice to where Cherokee would be built in the future. He never saw another white man and only a few Indians. Tom was gaining a reputation as a Shaman and healer so the encounters were friendly albeit the Indians were hesitant to meet with Tom. He was also strange enough to the Indians that they feared him as a crazy man."

Mornings were beginning to be cool and Tom knew he had to do something. He decided to cut trees and rebuild the three sided cabin in front of the cave. Tom spent the next three weeks building the cabin, chinking the logs and preparing for a long stay. He also decided he needed to prepare for the winter and began smoking and drying meat to last through the cold spell. He carefully set aside five pounds of the beans to plant in the spring and even some of the grain he had not yet fed to his stock. If he couldn't get home he would have to grind his own flour and corn meal in years to come, if he could grow the grain.

One morning Tom woke and walked outside his small home to find frost on the ground. This was a day to hunt so he took the mule and moved down valley to find a deer. The deer were restless this morning. The strange hum was back and it seemed to bother them. Tom had already looked at the cut out of the valley and couldn't see the shimmer so he returned to his blind to continue his hunt. He was just getting ready to fire when he saw a horseman seem to appear at the end of the cut. He knew he just came out of the cut in the hills and entered the valley but it almost seemed as if one moment he wasn't there and another he was. Of course, the deer saw the same thing and took off running.

Tom cursed his luck and stood. He walked slowly toward the horseman. When the horseman saw Tom he turned toward him and kicked the horse into a trot. There was a pack horse behind that also began trotting.

When the horse and rider were about fifteen feet from Tom he heard a scream, "TOM! What are you DOING here? Why didn't you come home? What's the matter with you? Where have you been all summer?"

Tom looked closer and saw Song Wolf jump from the horse and run toward him. When she reached him she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. Finally she stepped back and said, "We were so worried about you. Why didn't you come home? The Army's been calling for you and hunting you. They say you're AWOL and have a warrant out for your arrest." She was sniffling and took time to wipe tears from her cheeks.

Tom stood in shock. His face turned white and he slumped to the ground. He said, "How did you get here, Song? I've tried to come home every week since I left and I can't get there. All the buildings are gone. I've seen real Indians."

"Oh, Bullshit. I rode in just like you did. Now really, why didn't you come home and where have you been? We've been looking all over for you. We even had search parties out hunting you the first two weeks after you didn't come home. I came here for one more look before winter because I just couldn't give up on you.

"Now, where have you been? I know you weren't here because we've been in this valley dozens of times. There was never any sign you ever got here."

Tom stood and said, "Come with me, Song. I'll show you just exactly where I've been."