Epilogue The Smoke and the Fire

Somewhere In the West Autumn of 1893

 

The elder paused in his tale, and his progeny eagerly leaned in to hear the rest. After choking back his tears, the old man continued.

“The Adams tribe had won the battle for Kansas, but the war that followed was long and horrible. Jacob and his people took as their sign the Blue Coat, so that all who saw them would know that they were hard men and showed no mercy to those they looked upon as an enemy. The Grey Riders came forth to oppose them. The Grey Riders fought with such courage as any young Cherokee brave would envy. When they saw that they were outnumbered, they merely looked one to the other and said ‘Perhaps today is a good day to die.’ They fought as men who were already dead. The Blue Coats came into the land of the Grey Riders exactly as they came into the land of the Cherokee, bringing with them the end of the world. They burned everything and left nothing alive. At their passing the land was filled with dust and ashes and bricks and buildings and machines and dead things.

“Jacob had not seen the last of his enemy. The preacher and the slave driver would meet again in a land called Gettysburg; a city that became a graveyard. True to his word, Jacob shot down his nemesis, but not before he was pierced by the sword of the slave driver. He walked the war path with blood in his eyes and murder in his heart. His path was a short one. For all his study of scripture, Jacob knew not the truth of one very important saying. ‘He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword.’

“Now only I, Two Rivers, remain to tell his story. I found a shaman to cleanse me that I might step from the war path. Eventually I found a Muscogee-speaking woman who bore my children. But soon I will go to be with my friends, and once again our council fire will be complete. My sons, I raised you on the path of life so that you may not know the sorrow that weighs so heavily on my heart to this very day. That is why we keep alive the ways of the Cherokee.”

The tribe sat in silence for a while, but soon they found that their curiosity had not been satisfied. Another voice was heard.

 

“But father, what happened to Jacob after the battle with the slave driver? Did he remain in Kansas with his people? Did he ever return to his father’s house?”

The hour had grown very late, and only a few coals were left burning in the story fire. The elder had already told more than he had intended. The story had taken on a life of its own, as stories have a tendency to do. He found that he lacked the strength to continue.

“No my son; that is a story for another time. The moon rises high; we must rest. Now it is time to put out the story fire.”

 

The story fire was extinguished, and the smoke carried their prayers up to the Heavens, where the Great Father hears them all.

 

The End