Nathaniel Smiley

By Chris James

Chapter 5

A night of love and affection made the following day's rain bearable, and despite the downpour they drove west to find Marshall Lewis' cabin. They were going to be well beyond the borders of the Qualla and almost in Tennessee. The Nantahala National Forest was a vast area of recreational land filled with tree covered mountains and deep timeless valleys.

The small two lane roadway they travelled led them past Hiwassee Lake and through some of the more rugged parts of the park. Their objective was a small crossroads town in Tennessee named Farner and then they would have to backtrack to the border and find the gravel road where Mr. Lewis lived. They couldn't have picked a more isolated spot to visit.

Even in the light rain the woods and surrounding hills seemed magnificent, made even better when by late morning the sun came out. Ted pulled over by a rocky outcropping and they climbed up the steep slope to the boulders on top and sat down to enjoy a view of the lake.

The Great Smokey Mountains of the Appalachian chain stretched away to the north, some of the wildest country left in the eastern states. The parkland here, and for miles in every direction, was one of the great preserves of natural woodlands and all the creatures that lived in such an environment.

Creatures such as bears, cougars, and maybe even wolves Ted didn't hesitate to mention.

"I don't think this is a 'pitch your tent anywhere' kind of place," He said. "I'd feel better if we could find a nice KOA campground close to where we're going."

"I understand your concerns. Maybe this guy will let us camp in his front yard," Nate suggested. "Besides, we have protection, Oh Mighty Hunter."

"You can stop calling me that; I can't shoot things in the dark when I'm trying to sleep."

"OK, we'll find a campsite if we can."

Farner was a few streets and a stop sign kind of town, and then they headed north and east following the signs to the dam. The turnoff came up six miles later and Ted slowed down. They started to swing right onto a gravel road and he braked to a stop. Their path was blocked by a herd of deer.

The deer looked at them and they looked back, awestruck for the moment. Then with a twitch of their tails the graceful creatures bounded away into the woods beside the road.

"Wow, that was beautiful," Ted said.

"At home I sat on a rock across the road from the driveway one morning and within twenty minutes I was surrounded by deer," Nate said. "You don't hear them move, they just seem to appear and they are beautiful, I won't hunt them."

"OK, that was an uplifting moment; let's go find this Mr. Lewis."

They almost drove past the entrance to the property and Ted skidded on the gravel as he backed up. The sign that said Lewis was only slightly bigger than the No Trespassing sign. Ted pulled in the drive up to the gate and they sat there.

"OK, I thought he knew we were coming," Ted said.

"Ethan talked to him; I heard some of the conversation..."

Nate was cut off as a huge animal jumped up at the Jeep's door and scared him to death. The dog sat back with its tail wagging and awaiting some response.

"She doesn't bite, but I must warn you that you're in serious danger of being licked to death," A voice called from behind them.

Marshall appeared beside Ted's door, a smile on his face and a string of fish flung over his shoulder.

"O'siyo, youngsters... you must be Ted and Nathaniel, welcome. Let me open the gate."

The man appeared to be in his sixties, maybe older, but he was dressed in work clothes and wore a turban on his head. He had a shuffling step, as if one leg was shorter than the other, but he managed to open the gate with ease. He motioned the Jeep forward and Ted rolled slowly down the drive through the trees.

The dog bounded ahead, a great beast that Nate suspected was part wolf. There was a turnoff and two parking spaces, one already held a rusty Ford pickup and Ted pulled in beside it.

"Jeez, will you look at that," Ted said, and Nate gazed through the windshield at the cabin in the trees.

The structure was wood and stone and glass and metal and... it seemed to rise out of the trees like a giant sculpture. Lewis walked right past the Jeep and motioned for them to follow. Ted slid out the door to follow and found himself facing the wolf-dog. It growled at him until Lewis whistled and yelled, "Gihli." And the dog bounded away after its master.

Ted looked up to see Nate grinning at him. "I give you credit, I would have pissed my pants."

"Jeez, that was frightening... I thought she was gonna attack."

"Homegrown security system, what a beautiful animal," Nate said.

"Deer are beautiful, wolves are scary. Guess this one doesn't see too many white boys."

"Aww, give her a chance to know you... come on."

They followed the path through the trees and around the side of the house. Marshall was out back and had already begun to clean the fish.

"Sorry about Gihli, she doesn't get to meet too many strangers," He said.

The dog came out from under the porch and sat down on the stone patio.

"Gihli... friend," Marshall said.

The dog wagged her tail and inched her way over to Ted's feet. Ted looked up at Marshall who nodded and then he leaned down to pet the dog. Her tail started thumping the stones, and then she stood up and placed her paws on Ted's chest. As forewarned the dog began to lick his face.

"OK, Gihli... down, please," Marshall said and the animal sat back down. "Took me two years to teach her some manners, there's so much wolf in her that she rebelled at first."

"What does Gihli mean?" Ted asked.

Marshall laughed. "Dog... Cherokee for plain old dog."

"This house is incredible," Nate said.

"Thank you. Ben and I worked on it for years... he passed away, been two years now," Marshall said. "Sad thing, his heart gave out."

Marshall slid a knife through the fish with great skill, gutting it quickly and without much fuss. He gave the scales a quick scrape down and then tossed the fish in a bucket of water. Ted saw there were a half dozen fish already cleaned.

"Hope you like bass, I had the urge to grill fish today and hoped you'd eat with me."

"That sounds good to us," Nate said. "You cook too?"

"I do... now anyways. Ben used to do all the culinary arts and I stuck to my sewing, but a man has to eat." He dropped the final fish into the bucket and scraped the guts into a can, looking right over at the dog. "These aren't for you, girl, so don't touch." He set the can up on the porch railing and smiled. "I'll burn those later after we cook, come in the house and I'll fix these up."

They crossed the porch and walked in the back door to the kitchen. Ted and Nate both stopped after crossing the threshold.

"Oh wow," Nate said.

"Yeah, Ben had to have his kitchen... I still haven't figured out how to work half these gadgets," Marshall said. He set the bucket down in the sink and washed his hands. "OK, the quick tour so you don't get lost on the way to the bathroom."

The kitchen had a professional gas stove with six burners and two ovens, all the other appliances were stainless steel fitted carefully into the pecan cabinets. Marshall led them through a swinging door into the living and dining area.

The stone fireplace dominated, flanked by huge sheets of glass. The ceiling had to be twenty feet high and was punctuated by the central open staircase made of logs. The furniture was covered in woven fabrics, and the Cherokee influence reigned supreme. But it was the mannequins standing against the walls that captured their attention.

Cherokee clothing adorned each one, a mixture of men's and women's styles. Nate saw a buckskin shirt much like his own, except the bead work on this one was exquisite. Marshall saw the looks and explained.

"I've been collecting for over forty years and many of these things were in horrible condition when I got them. Joseph Crowe has some of my work in his museum I'm happy to say. There's no sense in going through all the work of restoring these pieces if no one gets to enjoy them."

Suddenly he seemed very tired and sat down on a leather footstool. "I need to sit a minute, my blood pressure again."

"Can I get you anything?" Nate asked.

Marshall smiled. "I'll take a dose of youth with a side order of someone to love."

Nate nodded. "Ben was your partner in life."

"Yes... does that shock you?" Marshall asked.

"No," Nate said, reaching out and taking Ted's hand. "I have one too."

The look on Marshall's face was priceless; it went from awe to genuine happiness. "Ahh, such lucky boys... is this something new?"

"A few weeks, we met at his Uncle's campground," Ted said.

"Is it love so soon?" Marshall asked. And the boys nodded in unison. "Oh my, that makes me so happy... we must celebrate."

"Wait," Nate said. "You don't have to do anything, you need to rest."

"OK, go in the fridge and get me a seltzer water... and help yourself to what you want, then we talk," Marshall said.

Ted followed Nate into the kitchen and watched him open the fridge. "Are we going to tell him everything?" Ted asked.

"We don't have to, but there's no reason to lie... he won't say anything," Nate said.

"It just seems strange, I mean talking about us to anyone."

"He lost the love of his life, Ted... the least we could do is offer to share our story with him."

And share they did. Marshall sat in a large leather chair and they perched on the matching sofa. He didn't seem surprised that no one knew of the relationship, it wasn't expected of boys their age. Marshall was thrilled by the description of the swimming pool incident and laughed when they described Denise slapping John silly.

"I know all these people and yet I only see them once or twice a year," Marshall said. "I certainly don't know that much about their lives... thank you for the insight. So this project was begun as an idea to stay together all summer, simply brilliant."

"Yeah, well it's become pretty interesting so far," Ted said. "I learn more about The People everywhere we go, it's fascinating."

Marshall nodded. "The Trail of Tears began just a short distance west of here, the park service has it all marked out. My Cherokee ancestors were rounded up with so many others, but they escaped and hid in the mountains around here. You've seen these hills; can you imagine hiding out here for years?"

"I don't know what my ancestors did," Nate said.

"Hmm, Smiling Sky was a name in the ancient Bear Clan."

"How do you know that?" Nate asked. "No one ever told me that."

"Follow me," Marshall said. He led them through the house to a room at the back, his study. The walls were covered in books and he pointed at a computer on his desk.

"Got that when the satellite network began, costs me a fortune but I love it." He pulled a blue covered book off the shelf. There was a bear hand painted on the cover.

"Ben collected the genealogy; I looked you up after Ethan called." He opened the pages to a book mark. "Here we go; Smiling Sky goes back sixteen generations. The book is forty years old; your Gran Betty is the last one in your clan listed here. We really ought to update these things. But finding you in the Bear Clan, how appropriate, don't you think?"

"I do, and maybe we'll get the chance to add to the records. I'm hoping this project excites a personal journey for a lot of people once they see the results," Nate said.

"So what can I do to help?" Marshall asked.

"I'd love to do some still shots of the traditional clothing, and then some filming of you at work on something," Ted said. "We'll be doing a lot of time on the dances so if you could explain how the dance costumes evolved that would add a lot of educational value."

Marshall smiled. "So you're the producer?"

Ted laughed. "Hardly... we haven't developed any roles in all of this."

"Ted's been doing the camera work since he seems to know what he's doing, I ask questions," Nate said.

"I think you should turn this into a media show for the museum," Marshall said.

"I agree, and I hope Joseph will help us assemble the final work," Nate said.

"OK, so let's go grill some fish and... where are you planning to stay tonight?"

"We thought about finding a campsite close by," Ted said.

Marshall nodded. "That's silly, I have lots of room. Besides, the nearest campsite is twenty miles away... stay here."

Nate smiled. "Thank you."

Marshall took Nate's hand and then Ted's. "You boys are family in the gay sense, and Cherokee hospitality won't allow me to turn you away. I'll enjoy your company tonight and tomorrow we can add some good things to your project. So... dinner?"

Marshall removed his turban and shook out his full head of hair. The dark strands were turning gray, but it still tumbled to his shoulders. He looked at Ted.

"I hear long hair is back in, I haven't cut mine in years."

"My dad bitches, maybe that's why I like it so much," Ted grinned. "I assume the turban is part of your tradition."

"It is, or tied up with feathers in the warrior way. But Sequoyah made it fashionable among the clans, I find it comfortable."

Marshall cleaned the fish and filleted them, the pieces attached to long wooden skewers. There were salad things and fresh corn bread. They walked back out onto the porch where Marshall lit the grill.

"I get into town about once a month but a friend of mine comes by several times a week to check up on me. He works for the parks department over at the dam; did you get a chance to see it?"

"No, we came in from Farner," Ted said.

"Maybe later I'll walk you down to the lookout if you're up to it."

"Oh... I didn't know you had two dogs," Nate said.

Marshall looked up and Gihli was over by the edge of the woods with another dog. Ted looked closely at the pair.

"They look a lot alike," He said.

"Gihli is part German Sheppard; I raised her from a pup. That male you see over there is a pure red wolf, just like her father. He's not as big as a gray wolf, but he's probably just as fierce. Her momma was a damn big dog; a snake bite got her early last year. But stranger things have happened in these woods, he's been keeping Gihli company for a while now."

"The wolf is wild and not a pet?" Ted asked.

"Nope, he comes by every now and then, but that's about as close as he gets to strangers. I fed him when it got real cold last winter so I guess he tolerates me now."

The fish took mere minutes to grill and they sat down to eat at the table on the back patio. The trees were full of birds and a distant rumble that Nate couldn't place.

"What's that sound?" Nate asked.

"The dam, it's down at the end of the road. Hiwassee Lake pretty much starts here," Marshall said. "Ben and I chose this spot for the view and the fish. You get close to a dam like this and they tend to hide out in the coves off the main lake to avoid the current." He nodded towards the woods. "Path back there takes you right down to a fisherman's paradise; I probably don't even need bait to catch them."

Marshall gave them a grim smile. "I took Ben's ashes down there; he didn't have much of a family left so I took care of it." He looked over at Ted. "He was white like you. I was very sad that his family couldn't deal with having a gay son. Most of our friends in the Qualla knew about us, they accepted him. It made me wonder why those white folks who seemed to have everything couldn't have a gay son. But that's just me; I'm running off at the mouth again."

"No... I want to know about Ben... and what you had together," Nate said. "I've made a choice too; I need to know how to deal with it."

Marshall nodded, and then set down his fork. "You go on believing that what you have is the best way... the only way you want to live your life. No matter what anyone says it's your decision to make... yours and Ted's."

"I don't think we need to be open about anything yet," Ted said. "I feel secure but I think others won't, and people do funny things when they're scared of something."

"How right you are," Marshall said. "OK, let's go for that walk and let dinner settle."

Gihli was with them every step of the way, only now she felt like she had to please three humans. The road crested a slight hill and they could see a water tower up in the trees. Marshall led the way around the giant framework of the legs and then they were standing with a clear view of the lake, and below it the dam.

"Damn, that's huge," Ted said.

"Has to hold back all those millions of gallons of water," Marshall said. "That's the TVA at work, built in the nineteen forties. 'Hiwassee' is the Anglicized version of Ayuhawsi which means meadows in Cherokee."

Marshall spread his arms wide and gestured at the lake. "All this was Cherokee land as far as a man could see, but that was before the resettlement of the tribes. Our people walked the calm banks of the river and took game and fish for their families. Gone... all that is gone.

"It's why I had to live here, to feel like I could still take back some of what has been stolen. In my younger days I used to preach that to the tourists in the park until they asked me to leave. The rangers all know me; they understand where others do not. Now you know why I want your project to succeed, it will teach things that must not be forgotten."

"The Crowes know about you, don't they?" Nate said. "They sent us here because of who you are and what you feel."

"Probably, Joseph is a wily old fox... we know one another pretty damn well," Marshall said. "You hear that roar; I only notice the sound of the dam when it's not there. Sometimes they shut the gates and the silence is deafening. Ranger Mellon says they release about six thousand cubic feet of water an hour, I have no idea what that means but it sounds like a lot."

Marshall pointed across the lake in several places. "Our people still live out here just like I do; we own the land of our ancestors... not all of it, but some. We feel like we have a hand in keeping it Cherokee land."

"A noble thought," Ted said.

Marshall smiled. "I've met many whites who became enamored of the Cherokee, Ben was one of them. In many ways it's the reason our legacy continues, it draws tourists. But I see you're more than a casual observer, more than a tourist in our world. You love a beautiful Cherokee boy, one who will become quite famous one day soon."

Nate was already blushing. "I will not, who am I to become famous?"

Marshall laid a hand on Nate's arm and their eyes met. "You are the future, my boy... you are what we will become as a people. Little Bear is more than a fantasy tale to amuse the little children; it's a story about how our people live, an analogy for survival."

They walked back to the house in the twilight with Gihli running through the trees in search of small creatures to harass. Marshall shut the gate and they walked up the drive towards the darkened house.

"Do you drink tea?" He asked.

"I do," Ted said. "Are we talking now or for breakfast?"

"Now will do, I have some special herbal teas... and I could use a pot of that this evening. Why don't you grab your bags and bring them inside."

Marshall turned on the lamps in the living room and then switched on the lights in the hallway. "Let me show you the guest room," He said.

Down the hall to the door across from his study, a room with skylights and an empty fish tank in the corner. "This was Ben's workplace; I've had a few guests so I had it redone. Joseph and his wife stayed in here last spring when they visited."

A queen sized bed and richly colored wooden beams in the ceiling all made for a warm and cozy space. Marshall went in the closet and brought them each a set of towels, indicating the bathroom across the hall. Ted took both backpacks and set them on the floor at the foot of the bed, and then they rejoined Marshall in the kitchen as he boiled water for their tea.

"What you said earlier about preserving the Cherokee legacy, why aren't the Cherokee more bitter about what the white man did to them?" Ted asked.

Marshall smiled as he poured the boiling water in the tea pot and put the lid on. "I'll start with the bitter. We are and always have been unwise as a people, we never saw the dark days coming. For hundreds of years we existed with the white man slowly eroding our forests and hunting grounds. It was time enough for us to assimilate many of the white man's ways.

"The colonies needed our help to survive; we traded with them for the calico and gingham you see on the Cherokee women today. We sold them tobacco and corn until they began to grow these things for themselves, and still they coveted our lands. Then they discovered gold in our hills.

"The great relocation was a sham, a land grab and nothing more. And after that they took our children into schools where the very heart of the people was made illegal, we were not allowed to speak our language. Today there are less than two thousand that know our syllabary well and that's why I have such hope in young men like Nathaniel.

"Yes, the Cherokee are bitter, but the taste makes us come alive. For in many ways we have held fast to our traditions while others turned away from theirs. We have a nation where so many live in poverty on reservations. The plight of the American natives is not finished, but we speak with a louder voice and we reach the conscience of the white man."

Marshall lifted the lid and examined the tea. "I believe it's ready."

Ted carried a tray with mugs and spoons, Nate took up the sugar bowl and a pot of cream. Marshall followed with the tea pot and they sat down in the living room again as they had this afternoon.

"Our own blend or I should say Ben made this up and I love it. He used to joke about it making me horny, but I don't think it was the tea," He laughed and then shook his head. "OK, Ben also grew pot out there in the woods somewhere and we'd smoke it occasionally, especially if we got snowed in. I don't think it's very healthy, but it was fun at the time."

He poured them each a mug of the tea and suggested a taste before adding anything. It was blistering hot but the fragrance was filled with spices and herbs, a refreshing change from coffee. Nate decided on sugar, Ted added sugar and cream as well.

"So I've been easy to approach and I'll share my knowledge willingly, how are you supposed to gain the trust of other old timers?" Marshall asked.

Ted smiled at that. "You're not old, Granny Huhu is old."

Marshall laughed. "OK, you win that argument... but trust is a big factor if you're seeking honest opinions and an insider's viewpoint."

"I have a magic wand," Nate said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

He returned to the room with the long box and laid it in Marshall's lap. With a curious expression the man opened the box and gasped.

"Sky's above... do you know what this is?"

"Besides being the key introduction to so many of The People, it's an ancient pipe that Joseph allowed us to borrow," Nate said. "Is there more?"

"You know about half of the story if this is the pipe Chief John Crowe used to own... and it is, oh my...go get your camera because I'm only going to tell this story once."

Marshall assembled the pipe and laid it on the hearth before he lit a small fire and sat back down to speak. Ted sat on the end of the couch and Nate joined Marshall on the floor before the fire. The camera could swing back and forth between them and the fire added a nice warm touch.

Ted turned the camera on and waited patiently. As before Nate took a pinch of the tobacco and sprinkled it on the fire so the smoke would rise to the Creator.

"May our thoughts and hearts be with The People tonight," Marshall said in Cherokee. "The history belongs to all, the stories need to be told and retold for the younger generations to know our past."

Through the viewfinder Ted saw the image of an elder passing along his wisdom to the youth at his feet... incredible, and then Marshall began to speak, in English this time.

"The year was eighteen and thirty-eight, The Removal had begun. The Cherokee and other tribes were gathered together to be marched west across the great Mississippi River to a newly established homeland. Some say there were twenty thousand Cherokee; others say more were displaced from their lands and their possessions.

"The hills were filled with caves and hideouts, and entire families disappeared into those places in a matter of months before the soldiers came. The troops of General Scott were told to round up the Cherokee and they did. Some of the soldiers were cruel, others chose to be compassionate, but the results were the same.

"A Cherokee farmer named Tsali worked his corn fields until the day the soldiers arrived. He had been warned to flee but he would not leave his land, and like so many he was unprepared. His family was ordered to a holding fort and marched away without many of their possessions.

"But Tsali had dreamed that the Cherokee would flee to the high mountains and many would escape the swords and bayonets of the soldiers. He had no idea that his dream was true, and that there were over a thousand already hidden away in the mountains.

"Two soldiers guarded Tsali, his wife and sons, and his brother-in-law. The sad story of what happened on that march came from his youngest boy. It began when Tsali's wife stumbled and a soldier prodded her with his bayonet to keep her moving.

"Tsali decided right then that they needed to escape to the mountains so he told his sons and brother-in-law to jump the soldiers and take away their guns. But everything went wrong and during the struggle a rifle was discharged and a soldier died. Tsali and the family escaped but now they were wanted as murderers. Scott's troops searched in vain, but the mountains hid so many, and Tsali evaded capture.

"A white trader known well by the Cherokee was asked to go find Tsali. Scott would make a deal. If Tsali turned himself in, the search for other Cherokee would stop. To save his people, Tsali, the brother-in-law and his oldest son turned themselves in, and they were executed.

"We honor him for his bravery, his commitment to his family and his people. Tsali laid down his life for the land he loved so dear. If the white man had succeeded in removing every Cherokee from this place the Qualla might never have been formed."

"The pipe... how does this relate to the pipe?" Nate asked.

"Tsali's youngest boy, Wasituna, was spared the firing squad. He and his mother escaped prosecution and lived to tell the story of Tsali's bravery. The Cherokee who remained hidden banded together under Utsali, a warrior of some renown, and remained in the mountains for years. Once the story was known to all, Utsali declared Tsali's bravery.

"Every year on the anniversary of Tsali's death the chief's held a gathering to celebrate the spirit of Tsali, and they smoked this very pipe in his honor, sending a message to the Creator that the Cherokee would never forget his sacrifice."

Nate looked at the pipe. "This pipe?"

Marshall nodded. "Yes, Chief John Crowe told me this and I am bound to honor his words."

"Then this is more than an ancient pipe... its part of our history from the Trail of Tears," Nate said.

"It is all of that," Marshall said. "Now you can understand how many things connect us to our past. The stories, the traditions and even the pieces of apparel I have come to cherish. To me the past is in everything we have around us. The land speaks to me of ancient times and gives me comfort."

"I feel it too, the Creator has blessed us all," Nate said.

"And so now do you wonder when I say that Little Bear is important to our people? Anything that links us to the wonders of our past through story and thought is important, a tool to teach the newer generations what they must do to uphold our traditions.

"When Little Bear reaches manhood he will know his place in our culture, he will understand that what he does now with this project will affect generations to come. This will be your gift to The People and your place in our lives will be assured."

Nate slowly nodded. "Thank you, Marshall... thank you for giving voice to the truth and for teaching me my place in it."

Marshall turned to Ted with a smile. "I would stop the camera now, for what I have to say is for your ears alone."

Ted nodded and switched it off, setting it down on the table. Marshall looked back and forth between them.

"Nathaniel is a person to be cherished for what he will accomplish and you both have become a great part of that. The strength of two is always greater than one, and I think your destiny is bound together in one voice. The Cherokee need that voice to bind us all and I take comfort that such fine young men carry the pipe and all it means into the future."

Marshall rose to his feet and gave Nate a hand up. "Now you understand the importance of your work a little more, what shall we do now?" He asked.

"The clothing... I assume most of it has a history as well," Ted said.

"It does, and that comes in two parts," Marshall said. "The history behind the older pieces is not as well known as I would wish. Now you see why I would love to display them in your project. The other pieces I make are costumes, replicas of traditional dance and everyday wear that are used in the pageants and gatherings of The People."

"That must take a lot of time," Nate said.

"Hours... many hours, but it's a labor of love to know that I can accomplish something so grand. The mannequins wear some of the finest examples of those traditional clothing items. Tomorrow we'll go over all of it. Does anyone want more tea?"

Marshall poured tea and managed to get the full story of how Ted and Nate met. They talked until the fire died down and then they all opted for a good night's sleep.

"I'd leave the windows open tonight, the air here is invigorating. You'll discover the forest is filled with sound at night and I think you'll enjoy that." Marshall hugged them both and climbed the stairs to his room.

Ted dragged Nate into the shower before they crawled between the sheets.

"He's such a beautiful person," Ted said. "He really thinks a lot of you."

"I guess he sees more than I do in my future as Little Bear. I'm not averse to becoming a celebrity, but I certainly don't want to become a tourist attraction."

"I think your people will feel you're an important part of their lives," Ted said. "But from what I've seen so far I don't think they'll share you with the tourists. You're not like those fake tepees and cigar store Indian stereotypes back in town, that's an image the tourists alone can appreciate. I think this project is going to earn you a reputation as a storyteller."

"That I could handle, you think I could make a career out of that?" Nate asked.

"I think you'd be a wonderful politician or diplomat. President Little Bear, that has a ring to it," Ted said.

That earned him a punch and Ted laughed, reaching back to grasp Nate's arms and pull him in for a hug. Nate laughed in reply. "I don't think they want a Cherokee president much less a gay one."

Ted nodded. "Their loss is my gain." And he leaned in for a kiss.

They had both been in the mood for days, and finally they had a private comfortable place to share those feelings. Since Marshall was asleep on the second floor at the other end of the house, this was certainly private.

Ted had felt something akin to awe as he had watched Marshall and Nate interact this evening. What they had done had allowed him to observe something ancient, something the Cherokee had done for centuries. He had always felt the outsider until this evening, but now he had a glimpse of his place in all of this, and it had been a magical experience.

The love they shared had been given deeper meaning, and as Ted lay between Nate's legs he tried to put a name to it. Nate was discovering important things about himself and his heritage, it would strengthen his character. Just becoming a part of that felt so good, so right... and so did what they were doing at the moment.

Ted was still being careful; this was only the third time he had made love to Nate's body. Sex was a way they could share their strength. It had begun as physical exploration and that had brought them together; now it expressed their love and made Ted realize there could be no other. He gazed down in Nate's eyes and saw... amusement?

"I feel you inside me but only that part of you is really here... what are you thinking?" Nate asked.

Ted smiled. "About you... us, and how very important you've become."

Nate sighed and then slid his hands around Ted's waist and grasped his ass, pulling him in to the hilt. "You need to live the moment and stop all these mind games when we're in bed. I'm not going to change my feelings about you even if I do become a local celebrity. So put that out of your mind, you have a job to do here."

And when Ted was done they lay silent and listened to the sounds Marshall promised would fill the forest around them. The distant rumble of water at the dam was a constant factor in the chorus of other noises. Like a couple of schoolboys, they tried to identify them all.

The chatter of night birds, the high pitched squeak of bats, and the deep hollow sounds of an owl... the concert went on and on. A distant bark that could be Gihli and an answering howl that could be the wolf. Thuds and thumps, intriguing things they could not identify. But the night air was cool and welcome, allowing them to snuggle under the blankets.

Maybe it was the herbs in the tea, or the conversation he'd had with Marshall, but Nate dreamed about bears. There had been other dreams about the experience he'd had as a boy, but nothing like this. For in this dream he was grown, a man, and not a little boy anymore.

They were deep in the woods, and Nate recognized that Ted had become a part of his thoughts. They were surrounded by a gloomy darkness, the trees blocking out most of the light from the sun. The forest floor was thick with pine needles and their tread was soft and silent. The bushes in the distance seemed to move and he immediately thought of the wild pigs they had hunted.

Ted had his rifle ready and Nate raised his own weapon, only to realize he was carrying nothing more than a spear. A hog broke from the cover and ran away from them, and then another and another. And yet the bushes still shook until they took on shape and form as the bear stood up. The beast was all of fifty feet away and it growled at them but did not move. Ted raised his rifle and Nate yelled for him to stop, the bear wasn't threatening them.

There was something about this bear, something familiar... no, it couldn't be. Nate stood his spear against a tree and walked towards the creature. Maybe it was something in the eyes, something soft and warm, but Nate felt no threat here. And then he saw the markings on its chest, the arrowhead blaze in white fur.

"Is it you, Little Yonv?" Nate asked. "After all these years, is it really you?"

The bear smiled. "You are the little human who fed me, I remember your scent," It said.

"How could this be? That was years ago, you were just a cub," Nate said.

"I've always been a part of you, and because of your kindness we are as one. I have come to thank you; because of you I've had a long and welcome life."

It was then that Nate noticed the gray around the muzzle and the tattered fur around its ears. The bear was old; it would not live much longer.

"I know what you are thinking, Little Bear," It said. "I am not long for this world; my life now ends just as yours reaches its peak. Because of my contact with you I have wisely avoided humans these past thirty years. They might hunt me but I would do them no harm. But it is time for me to go, the great spirits in the sky call my name and I will run with them between the stars."

The bear looked sad and Nate leaned forward to give it a hug. "Thank you, Little Yonv... I will never forget your name," He said.

"I want you to have my skin to keep you warm in the cold days of winter," The bear said. "I would trust no other to wear it."

"I would be honored... but how is this possible?" Nate asked.

The bear smiled. "I am a Cherokee bear just like you are. This is more than a dream; you will have the vision to find me. Now I shall depart for the sky, The Great Yonv waits, and we shall run across the sky together. For I am Little Yonv... just like you are. You may look above any time you wish to remember me."

Nate awoke with a start and realized it was still quite early. Ted lay asleep beside him, peaceful and unaware of the dream's impact. Nate crawled out of bed and looked up at the skylight, detecting the first faint rays of sunlight. He slid on his shorts and walked to the sliding glass doors onto the patio. He pushed them open and stepped out onto the back patio.

The morning was cool, the trees alive with the sounds of birds. Nate sat in one of the deck chairs and thought about his dream. The symbolism was quite evident; he was still in touch with that early experience in his life. There was a lesson in there somewhere; he had to discover what it was.

If he was a man in the dream then his meeting with the yonv was in his future, if it was to ever happen. It didn't seem possible that he would possess the bear's skin; there was an analogy in the thoughts. He already possessed the name; Little Bear was already a part of him. It was how he used it that would make a difference.

There was a small noise at the end of the patio and Gihli leapt up onto the deck. She had seen him and made her way over, tail wagging. Nate held out his hands and she came over to sit between his legs where he could scratch her ears.

"What is my connection to the bear, Gihli... do you know?" Nate asked.

She was a creature of the wild much like the bears. Her instincts were keen, her senses sharpened by the bond with nature. If she could speak Nate was sure Gihli could teach him some wonderful things. His brief encounter with that bear cub had taught him some great lessons. Was he destined to pass that knowledge along to others?

"Good morning," Marshall said, padding on bare feet across the deck and taking the other chair. "You're up early."

Gihli wagged her tail and yet didn't leave her spot; Nate held sway over her with his gentle touch.

"I had a dream and it woke me up. I'm still trying to figure it out."

Marshall nodded. "This is a place of dreams; I should have told you that. I've met many strange and wonderful creatures in my dreams; I hope it was good for you."

"I met the little yonv of my childhood, we were both grown up and he was fast approaching the end of his life. He told me to look for him in the sky, and what was more curious was that he offered me his skin to keep warm."

Marshall's eyebrows went up. "Oh? I would say that was a powerful dream then, one that foretells the future."

"But I don't understand the meaning," Nate said.

"And maybe you never will. Not all dreams are meant to be taken literally; sometimes they are just symbolic of our thoughts and aspirations."

"I think so too. The bear has been a part of my life since that day ten years ago, I carry his name. And then I come here and discover I am connected to the Bear Clan. Even if I wore his skin I would never really become him. Our association is through story and legend; he is a powerful and very spiritual creature to The People."

"It seems you already have some insight to your dream," Marshall said.

"I think I'm meant to teach. Maybe not in a classroom, but in a bigger sense of the word. I think my relationship to the bear is unique; I need to bring that understanding to our people. The bear represents strength and skill; I must find those qualities within myself and use them wisely."

Marshall nodded. "I agree, and I think you've already begun." He sighed and gave out a short chuckle. "I'm supposed to be a wise man, or so they say about me behind my back. But you seek answers from within and I think that's very wise."

They sat in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts. It was Marshall that spoke first.

"My first love was a boy about your age, he was white as well. My parents were farmers over towards Snowhill, west of the Qualla. Mason went to my school in Robbinsville. It was a time of self discovery, one that I will never forget.

"It was hard being the Indian boy in my class, there were only two others in the whole school and they were both older. But I wasn't picked on, probably because we were all in such a poor state in life, and we all know misery loves company.

"Mason's family was farming too, and when his daddy's barn burnt down we all pitched in to help him build a new one. My brother and I carried boards and nails for the men working on the barn, and Mason was right there with us. We became friends that week and began to spend time together after school.

"I remember he was the curious one, he'd never seen a naked Indian. Once he had I recall we did simple things together that seemed wonderful at the time. It lasted most of a year before we entered high school and Mason found himself a little girlfriend. I felt no attraction to girls like he did, but we remained friends until graduation."

"So you knew who you were at that age?" Nate asked.

"I thought I did, but experience teaches us differently. Knowledge comes in waves until at some point you find yourself immersed in living. Finding love this early is a blessing, now you can partner up and move on to learning other important things."

"I have two months and then he has to go back to school, I can't bear to think of that."

"The learning is important, but the place isn't. You'll work it out," Marshall said.

"Work what out?" Ted asked, as he stepped out on the deck.

"What we're having for breakfast," Nate said, giving Marshall a smile.

"I recommend my hotcakes," Marshall said. "And I have a morning tea that will open your sleepy eyes."

Ted grinned. "That works."

Breakfast was all it was promised to be and by nine they were setting up for the filming. Marshall had donned a beautiful Cherokee styled turban and a long traditional robe in the style of Sequoyah. They began in his workshop which was filled with the dance costumes he was making for the summer gathering the weekend of the Fourth of July.

He spoke at length about the dances and the style of costumes used. The elements were on the tables surrounding him, beads, feathers and colored ribbons that would stream from the bodies of the dancers. His preference for natural products was explained as were the spiritual aspects of the dance.

Ted thought Marshall was a great speaker. He knew the information so well and was comfortable talking about it. In discussions with Nate he knew at some point they would have to narrate portions of the film. They had captured about five hours now, and yet Ted knew they were far from done. The portion with Marshall was finished by lunch time.

"I think as a companion to what you have from me you ought to go visit Bob Travers in Snowbird Township," Marshall said as he heated soup on the stove.

"Travers, I know that name," Nate said.

"You should, his family puts on the largest dance show in the Qualla. Year after year they have the finest performances I think in the whole Nation. Their family travels all over the country performing, it's all they do."

"So they're professionals, they get paid for the show," Ted said.

Marshall nodded. "Sometimes, but Bob understands the value of what they do, he'll talk with you." Then he laughed. "He better when he sees that pipe or I'll never let him hear the end of it."

"I'd like to film another segment with you, if you don't mind," Nate said. "I've been thinking about the message we're going to send and it has to be more than just stories and dance."

Marshall smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

"Yesterday, as we stood above the lake, you said some things, some spiritual things about the Cherokee and the land. I don't know exactly what I want it to be, but we need to reach The People in a deeper sense as well."

"You want me to preach to the choir, is that what you're asking?"

"I guess," Nate said. "You tell wonderful stories from the past; I'd like to give you a chance to share your own thoughts."

"Stories from the past are sometimes easier to understand. So you want a bit of theatre for your film and this old actor is willing, but first... a story."

Ted grinned. "I'll go get the camera."

"No, this is for your ears... a lesson in understanding," Marshall said.

"The sun is an elegant young woman who lives in the east, while the moon is her brother who lives in the west. Their family tie is strong and yet they rarely appear in the sky together because of something that happened before time was counted.

"The sun was in love with a strange young man, but she never saw his face. He would come to her in the night, but only when the moon was dark. His love was such a beautiful thing but the sun grew curious and wanted to know his name.

"She devised a plan by which she would trail her fingers through the ashes on the hearth before she caressed his face as they made love. This way he would not know she had marked him and then he would be easy to find. And when he came to her bed she carried out her plan, leaving marks on his face in the darkness.

"But the following day as the sun and the moon each rose in the sky she saw the marks on the face of the moon and knew it was he who had been coming to her bed. And that is why the sun and the moon never rise together."

Marshall paused at the end of his story. "This is part of an ancient Cherokee myth, and yet it's a story not often told. The taboo of brother and sister sleeping together is explained this way and yet this story is one not many want to contemplate. Sometimes my thoughts are also things that people don't want to hear, but I speak truth."

Nate nodded. "And you must always tell us truth, for how else do we learn from our past what we need for the future?"

"Then I will preach for you in a place of my choosing, give me time to get ready."

The Marshall that appeared an hour later was a different man. His hair was done up with feathers in the traditional fashion, his buckskin shirt covered in bead work and quills. Ted stared at the apron he wore across his lap, another piece covered in intricate bead work. It was a grand form of dress, but Ted had no idea what it was suppose to represent.

Marshall led them down the path towards the lake and there sat a small mud and wattle hut constructed in the ancient tradition. One side was open facing the east and the lake. Marshall gathered a handful of twigs to start a small fire and went about making it. Ted could see the ground was swept clean around the hut and a circle of stones marked off the area.

Marshall smiled as he saw the boy looking around. "The spirit circle is strong here; you didn't know I was a shaman, did you?"

"No... you're a medicine man?"

"In some sense of the words, yes I am. But Cherokee medicine is of the herbal variety and less about magic. The word shaman to us is a wise old man, something I'm still working on," He chuckled. "See that rock over there, the dark colored one? Go turn it over."

Ted walked to the indicated rock and pulled it over. The underside was shot through with quartz crystals and something else. "What am I looking for?" Ted asked.

Nate had come to inspect the rock as well. "What is this?" He asked.

"Neither of you take any geology in school? That's quartz rock and those are veins of gold," Marshall said.

"Gold, wow... but I thought gold came in nuggets," Ted said.

"It does sometimes once the rock breaks down. But the gold hereabouts runs in veins through the quartz, makes it harder to mine," Marshall said.

"So you have a gold mine?" Nate asked.

Marshall laughed and shook his head. "No, I don't want to break my back for a few dollars. But that's the reason the white man took our land, they wanted the gold. In a few places the gold is right at the surface and the Cherokee scooped it up because it was an easy metal to melt down and use for decoration. It has no practical use, it's too soft."

"You could be rich if it's on your land," Ted said.

Marshall nodded. "It's right under your feet, but I don't need it to live. I really believe it would only bring me trouble. I just ask that you don't tell anyone."

"We won't," Nate said. "This is a spirit place for you, taking the gold would be a sacrilege."

"You understand, that's good. I get more from sitting in this place than all the wealth would bring me. The spirits visit me here, some of them are ghosts," Marshall said. "Go ahead and start your camera. Ted."

Ted set up the tripod and started the camera; there would be only one angle to the scene, Marshall tending his fire.

"The world of the Cherokee is filled with the spirits of our ancestors," Marshall said. He had a small fan in his left hand, one he used to direct air at the small pile of kindling. Smoke curled around his head making him squint.

Marshall added more twigs to his tiny fire and then stood up. From the pouch at his waist he withdrew a small deerskin bag filled with tobacco. He pinched a small amount and began to toss it, east, west, north and south. He sprinkled some on himself and on the ground around him, and then he sat down and tossed a small amount on the fire.

He stared into the flames. "Our lives began with only what the Creator gave us. Lives that embraced the great beauty of this land. It fed and clothed us, allowed us to raise families and build clans. We studied the natural world around us and learned our survival skills from the creatures of the forest. And in all these things we never forgot the blessings the Creator gave us... until now.

"Spirits guide our lives and give us things to ponder, the lessons we need for a good life. Ghosts are another matter. Now I may speak of ghosts, for the offering has been made and the spirits are here to protect us. The ghosts are strong here where so many of The People have died. Spirits of the dead often wash down the rivers, but they are not to be feared. The ghosts I speak of died long ago on the Trail of Tears.

"Those tortured and starved souls were left to die without ceremony on the trail west. The ghosts seek a return to the Cherokee homeland and sometimes I see them." Marshall paused and stared out across the lake. "I sit here to welcome them home and guide them to their place of rest. I ask the Creator to give them a burial worthy of their family. The hard part to contemplate is that many of these ghosts have no family left; they all perished on the trail.

"I am bound to this land because I am the gatekeeper for my ghosts; I welcome them in the name of our people. But these things are not accepted by many of the living, my words fall on deaf ears. But there are some that understand my ways, my purpose, and know that I will not leave here until my spirit joins the Creator and all our ghosts have come home to rest."

Nate sat across the fire in silence, stunned by Marshall's revelation of his purpose in life. The cause was the noblest thing he had ever heard, the Tsalagi gatekeeper... it all made sense. Marshall seemed to understand his thoughts and smiled.

"You don't seem to think these are the words of a crazy man, do you?" He asked.

"No... not at all. Do these ghosts speak with you?" Nate asked.

"There have been many. They appear over there by the trees and come to me just about where you're sitting, tired and weary from their journey. Some cry when they realize they have reached their journey's end, and I weep with them. And between the tears they tell me of the lost ones who had traveled with them. The many thousands who did not make it home... and we pray for them."

And here Marshall closed his eyes and began to sing. The song was slow and haunting in tone, it sounded like a death chant. But he raised his face to the sky and smiled as he sang. The song raised the hair on the back of Ted's neck and he shivered even as he felt the sun warm and bright around him.

The image in the camera was compelling. Marshall looked like one of those ancient spirits he had been talking about. The song finally ended and there was silence, only the sound of the water below them, the distant roar of the dam.

"Yogaquu osaniyu... adanvto adadoligi nigohilvi... nasquv utloyasdi nihi. May the blessings of the Creator always be with you," Marshall finally said, "And I mean that for the both of you."

"Thank you, Marshall" Nate said. "You're a very special person."