Chapter 15 - The Inevitable
CHAPTER 16 - Beginning Again
Chapter 17 - One Tin Soldier
Sam: …By rights we shouldn't even be here.
But we are.
It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo,
the ones that really mattered.
Full of darkness and danger they were.....
How could the world go back to the way it was
when so much bad had happened?
Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turnin' back,
only they didn't. They kept goin',
because they were holdin' on to somethin'.
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo,
and it's worth fightin' for.
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
Chapter 15 - The Inevitable
Fall 1866, Washington D.C.Historians judge by the time the war was over, seven thousand Cherokees had lost their lives, accounting for a quarter to a third of the Cherokee Nation. Their properties were laid to waste and homes burned. The days of fortune, self rule and slave labor were halted and the Union Congress was none too happy with any of them, whether they had served the Confederacy or not. Those that fought for the Union lost land rights along with the Southern rights Cherokee in post war treaties.
By 1880 whites outnumbered the Indians in Indian Territory. In the treaties imposed after the war, large sections of Cherokee lands were taken for railroad construction, white settlement and relocation of other tribes. Of the seven million acres granted the Cherokee in the New Echota Treaty of 1835, the Cherokee Nation finally maintained a fraction of their lands.
The Treaty of 1866 negotiated by the Cherokee Nation also remembered those others who had been a significant part of the struggle. It stated:
"All native born Cherokees, all Indians, and whites legally members of the Nation by adoption, and all freedmen who have been liberated by voluntary act of their former owners or by law, as well as free colored persons who were in the country at the commencement of the rebellion, and are now residents therein, or who may return within six months from the 19th day of July, 1866, and their descendants, who reside within the limits of the Cherokee Nation, shall be taken and deemed to be, citizens of the Cherokee Nation."
The Southern Cherokee delegates selected to testify before Congress were crowded into a small room in the the United States Capitol, waiting their turn to attempt some salvage of what was left of their nation after the Civil War. No group sacrificed more blood or wealth.
Saladin Watie reminded them all. "Like Uncle Jim says, regardless of what the Emancipation Proclamation thought it did, if the Negroes don't own their own land, they will never be free. We must insist they get allotments as any Cherokee citizen would."
The words of John Adair Bell, written to the United States Secretary of War in 1839, pleading for relief from John Ross's power and deceit were as relevant these decades later. On this day, it was their children pleading the same case. Their petition for protection from the Pins, and for representation in their government and determination of their own destiny had not changed.
"Whereas, on the 22nd day of June last, our three distinguished friends, Major Ridge, John Ridge, and Elias Boudinot, were cruelly and inhumanly assassinated, and , as we are informed and really believe, by an order of the partisans of John Ross, in consequence of the deceased having signed the treaty of December 29, 1835.
And whereas, since that time the state of anarchy and confusion in the country has been intolerable; and the decree passed by the partisans of John Ross, as well as many of their friends are in imminent danger of secret and cowardly assassination.
And whereas, a civil war is seriously deprecated, inasmuch as it would tend to the total destruction of our nation:
Be it therefore, Resolved, That we regard the recent conduct of the partisans of Ross, in the murder of the deceased, in the decree passed relative to the signers of the treaty and their friends deserve the reprobation of all mankind, and meriting the severest punishment.
That we believe it to be right that we should appeal to the Government of the United States for the punishment of the murderers of the deceased Ridges and Boudinot, and for justice and protection for ourselves and families. For that purpose we will send a delegation of two, viz: John A. Bell and Stand Watie to Washington City, in order to lay our grievances before the Secretary of war.
The treaty party deny that they have committed any acts deserving of punishment.....But they acknowledge not the power or mobocracy of John Ross or his constituted authorities. They will never submit to his authority or dictation."
Cornelius Boudinot had just testified about the character and problems of the exiled Chief John Ross remaining head of the entire Cherokee Nation.
"But, Sir, there are serious charges which I will make against him...The fact is the Cherokee Nation has long been rent in twin by dissensions and I here charge these upon the same John Ross. I charge him with it here today and I will do it tomorrow. I will show that the treaty made with the Confederate States was made at his instigation. I will show the deep duplicity and falsity that have followed him from his childhood to the present day. When the winters of 65 or 70 years have silvered his head with sin, what can you expect of him now?"
Cornelius returned to the others to wait when a young reporter armed with cameras burst into the room, looked around at the group of well dressed gentlemen while pertly announcing, "I'm supposed to photograph some Indians for the newspaper. Anyone seen 'em?"
They all looked at each other, then at the naive young camera man.
Bill Adair chided, "You're looking at 'em. We left our feathers and Tommy hawks back at the teepee."
"Oh," was all the reporter decided he should say to the Indian's confusing comments. He didn't bother to look up when he slowly asked, "Are you all here now and ready for the photograph?"
John Ridge looked at the other men and said, "Why not? Some of us are here and some of us aren't. Looks like you'll have take what you can get. But I guarantee you'll never get used to it."
The puzzled young man hastily finished with his photography as the others continued to chastise him. Hooley Bell, Dartmouth educated son of John Adair Bell, was being sworn in at the hearing to be questioned by the Congressional panel.
"Please state your name!" Ordered the chairman of the solemn assembly.
"Captain Lucien Burr Bell, Sir," answered Bell loudly, saluting the august committee. "People who know me call me Hooley. That's Cherokee for Bell."
"What is your trade, calling, or occupation?" The chairman demanded.
Bell replied, "Various things. I practice law a little......farm some......run for office occasionally. Now and then take a hand at poker and never miss a horse race, if I get to it." He paused a moment, cleared his throat as his eyes surveyed the room. "The rest of the time I spend in trying to fool God like you white folks do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER 16 - Beginning Again
The South rebuilds after the Civil War
Southern Cherokee delegation to Washington D. C. Fall 1866
L -R , John Rollin Ridge, Saladin Ridge Watie, Richard Fields,
Elias Cornelius Boudinot, William Penn Adair
L -R , John Rollin Ridge, Saladin Ridge Watie, Richard Fields,
Elias Cornelius Boudinot, William Penn Adair
"By de time dat war ended them Pin Indians had stole everything that wasn't nailed down and then they burned most a' dat too. We was all left with confederate money, and it wasn't even worth burnin'. We all come back to de old place in Indian Territory and find de Negro cabins and barns burned down and de fences all gone and de field in crab grass and cockleburs. But de big house ain't hurt 'cepting it need a new roof. De furniture is all gone, and some said de soldiers burned it up for firewood. Some officers stayed in de house for a while and tore everything up or took it off."
"Then come a time of cholera, back in the spring of sixty-seven. People die all that season, and the dead, seem like they pass and pass all the time. Dey was carried in little two wheel wagons pulled by a mule to a burying place. Why, you'd be standin' there fine one minute and that cholera would hit and you'd be dead in a few hours."
"And then after all dat, a few years go by and I get married to a black African, right on this porch. But we couldn't get along so I let him go. Reverend Duncan was our preacher at the wedding. Reverend Duncan was married to one of Master Bells sisters, Martha. I had on my old clothes for de wedding, and I ain't had any good clothes since I was a little slave girl before the war. Then I had clean, warm clothes and I had to keep 'em clean too!"
Daisy explained the turmoil after the war ended. "The Starrs got mixed up with some pretty bad folks after de war. I hear 'bout it when I was young. Tom Starr had a son named Sam who married a white woman the folks called Belle Starr. She was the baddest woman in de whole country before she got killed down on her farm near Briartown, 'bout 1888, I think 'twas. Shot from her horse, but dey never did find out who killed her. Old Tom was kind of an outlaw, too, but not like his son's wife. He never went around robbing trains and banks, his troubles was all account of the Indian doin's long before the war, so they say."
Daisy explained that the war ending didn't end the problems for the Cherokee. "After de war, that Union gubmint didn't like Master Jim being so uppity with 'em. They was either after him for somethin' er 'ruther or Master was taking 'em to court. Dey jest wanted him to shut up and be a good Injun. So, musta been ten years after the war, jest to teach 'em all a lesson I reckon, they arrested Master Bell for treason 'cause he sided with the South in the war. Put him on trial at Fort Smith! But he was a better lawyer than them Federals was! Yessir! " She slapped her knee and cackled happily.
"But, Miss Daisy," the woman implored. "Weren't you happy the war was over, that President Lincoln freed you?"
Daisy replied, "Of course I hear about Abraham Lincoln and he was a great man, but I was told mostly by the children when dey come home from school about him. I always think of my Master as de one dat freed me, and anyways Abraham and none of his North people didn't look after me and buy my crop right after I was free like Master did. Dat was de time dat was the hardest and everything was dark and confusion."
In the fall of 1867, Saladin Watie wrote to his father who was away from home with Saladin's younger brother Watica and other relatives attempting to resurrect a living for the family. Resettlement of their homeland after the war was a daunting challenge. Animosity from the 'Pins' lingered and reared it's head often along with rampant lawlessness by other disenfranchised troublemakers. Plantations and houses before the war were extinguished for the most part and rebuilding life began even as death continued to claim them.
"November 16, 1867, At Home. Near Breebs Town C.N.
Dear Father,
I will start my wagons with the Boys tomorrow to assist you in moving. I have just got home from the Falls [Webbers Falls], where I have been for two weeks hauling rock and boards, to finish my house. I also got in nearly all of Uncle Jim's [James Madison Bell] corn and some of my own....Since you left, I and Charles has not been idle, but a part of our work was of no benefit to us. We cut a large amt. of hay, and it was all burned up a few days ago.
I think we have got along very well; have had plenty to eat, except for the last week or so we have been out of meat, that was in my absence. I will go out and buy a good beef from some Choctaw tomorrow, and better than all Mama has grown to be stout and healthy. She steps about like some young sixteen year old girl.
All of our horses are in good fix, the mule, Peet, has been found. The cattle is doing very well so Mama tells me. I have not seen them since I come back. I swapped my horse Bill off for a match to my Kitchen horse, the finest looking span of horses in this country. If I was in your place I would much rather buy an ox team than any other kind, to bring the larger wagons you have, for oxen is ready sale, should you be compelled to sell them, and you can keep them with less expense than mules or horses.
I wish I was down to help you. I know I could be so much help in getting up your stock and bringing it out. I think you will bring a good lot of hogs. If you should need me and Charles and the wagon send us word by Stand Benge, or Watica and we will go down and give you all the help we are able.....Mama authorizes me to say that we can very well do without old Sall and Mrs. Squirrel. We are all anxious to see you all roll in. Don't let any one ride my mare and have good care taken of her for I hope she will be able to ride up to Grand River when you get back with her. I have given Boudinot credit for the mule and the two hogs, and if you don't attend to getting them for me I will be eighty dollars looser for Boudinot has given me hints enough, if I did not get them I would not get anything.
My house is going up very fast now. I think you will be after me for a trade when you see it and of course I will trade with you, for I would rather see you live in such a house than to do so myself. It would be more pleasure to me than anything in the world to see you and Mama in a good comfortable house.
Nothing more just now, make Uncle Charles write to me, for he can tell me about every thing and the place. You can't imagine how anxious we are to hear from you all. If Watica was not so much help in driving stock I would insist you would send him back to satisfy our thirst for news from the place.
From Your Son, Saladin Watie
P. S. It is with sorrow that I am called on to inform you of the death of our ill fated relative John R. Ridge. He died at his place of residence in California some time in September last ……Foster Bell [son of David Bell] too came to an untimely end, as I suppose you have already herd, by some cowardly devil who waylaid and murdered him for what little money he was supposed to have had. It took place some where in the Choctaw Nation and it is reported here, that Johnson Thomas and Tuck Rider was the perpetrators of the bloody deed, if it proves to be the case it will be the duty of Uncle Jim to report it to the Principal Chief, and demand them. They are both Cherokees and I suppose it would come under the jurisdiction of our court.....if it were to me to decide.... I am pretty certain they would meet with their deserts."
Stand and Sally Watie, finding their home and mill burned to the ground by Federals during the war, returned to financial ruin. Watie used the last of his resources in 1867 to help finance nephew Cornelius Boudinot in a joint venture of an Indian Territory tobacco factory. It was likely near this location that Saladin wrote to his father. Only another year would pass before Saladin was claimed by a sudden, unexplained illness at age twenty-one.
The Boudinot Tabacco Factory was located just inside Indian Territory near Siloam Springs, Arkansas and proved popular and lucrative to local businesses. Seeing the success of the enterprise and the temptation of revenue and reprisal, the government acted upon a law they had just imposed for a federal excise tax on tobacco and distilled spirits which did not exempt Indian Territory.
Watie refused to pay what he considered an illegitimate tax against a sovereign state and in violation of the treaty made only a year before which held Cherokee or other tribes were not subject such tax. Boudinot, having been involved in writing the language of the treaty, knew the congress and the government had acted outside the agreement.
Nevertheless, federal officers confiscated and closed the factory, seized the assets to pay the back tax and forced Watie into bankruptcy. Boudinot filed suit against the government, but typically the case was long delayed. This became a landmark decision, setting precedent that a law passed by Congress could supersede provisions of even a recent treaty.
It was said that excellent grades of tobacco had been produced at the Boudinot factory and merchants who had engaged in selling it were disappointed because of the loss of revenue from the product. The white growers in Missouri also took their objections to the government to restrain the Cherokees' competition. Boudinot lost his case in federal court and filed before the U.S. Supreme Court. Fifteen years later, the United States Court of Claims was ordered to give Boudinot restitution for damages; too late for Watie to regain his loss. No such tobacco enterprise was attempted again in Indian Territory.
Cornelius, who had been admitted to the bar in 1856 at age twenty one, went home to Arkansas after the tobacco factory was closed and resumed practice of the law. Eventually in Fort Smith, he was admitted to practice before the Supreme Court of the United States. He published several newspapers including 'The Arkansian', a weekly published at Fayetteville "in the interest of democracy". He also maintained a ranch in the Cherokee Nation near his kin, while he spent much time in Washington D.C.
Stand Watie spent his final years leading his nation, farming and trying to restore his land and continue the education of their children. Somehow he managed to send them away to school to make up for the years of war halting their lessons. Son Solon, who often was called by his Cherokee name, Watica, wrote from school to his father. "I feel proud to think that I have a papa that take the last dollars he has to send me school." Solon died of pneumonia while attending classes in Cane Hill, Arkansas in 1869.
Weeks before his death in 1871, Watie wrote to daughter Jacqueline from their home on the Grand River. "You can't imagine how lonely I am up here at our old place without any of my dear children being with me. I would be so happy to have you here, but you must go to school."
There may never have been a bullet molded that could kill the old General, as the legend said, so instead the powers that were in control of his destiny allowed him to grow poor and old and sick with his grief as his children fell around him, in their attempt to break him.
More land losses were the rule rather than the exception during the 'reconstruction' years after the war. An unoccupied portion of land given the Cherokee in prior treaties called the 'Strip' or Cherokee 'Outlet' was approximately one hundred and fifty miles long and sixty miles wide containing several million acres; the land mass of Belgium. To the south was the Cheyenne-Arapaho reservation; to the East, the Osage and other Indian reservations. Kansas was to the North. To the South was The Panhandle of Texas and an area known as No Man's Land.
The Cherokee received a patent to the land from the federal government, but no allowance to settle there. The Strip was geographically separated from the Cherokee Nation by several other tribes on reservation land, which made it impractical to use even as grazing, without tress passing against other tribes. Before, and for another decade after the Civil War, the Cherokee gained nothing from this land.
Attention fell on the property when Cornelius Boudinot, by then a lobbyist in Washington DC., wrote an article published in the Chicago Times on Feb. 17, 1879 favoring settlement of the Strip. Not surprisingly at the same time he was making plans with his old allies and kin to form a colonization project in the outlet.
On Feb. 3, 1879 Boudinot wrote to James Madison Bell. "I am in for establishing a colony west of 98. We can do this without authority of the U.S. or anybody else.....get up your colony; if no more than 20 or 30..."
President Rutherford Hayes issued a proclamation less than two months later, forbidding unlawful entry into the Strip in an attempt to prevent Cherokee settlement of the land. This did not deter some.
A few months after Boudinot's article, Bell loaded wagons with supplies, fencing and building materials, along with some of his friends and family attempted to settle a portion of the strip for the Cherokee people on the Chickaska River near the border town of Caldwell, Kansas. After a scout of two days, Lt. J.M. Warren detailed by the federal government from Arkansas City in Kansas located the settlement. Jim Bell was arrested by U.S. troops, removed to Arkansas City and the 'colony' destroyed.
Boudinot and Bell were leading advocates for the abolition of the tribal land system of the Indians. They and others wished to have the lands owned in severalty, which is ownership of real property by an individual as an individual; the same right to property as other Americans. They also championed the establishment of United States Courts in Indian Territory, and the abandonment of the tribal governments.
The following September, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs informed the Cherokees that they were not permitted to settle or reside in the country west of the ninety-sixth parallel. At the same time Kansas City power brokers were pushing the government for the Outlet to be inhabited by white settlers. This began the "Boomer Movement" that led to huge land runs by those settlers a few years later.
Out of this, 'It's mine, but what good does it do me' situation, the Cherokees maneuvered under the leadership of Hooley Bell and Chief Dennis Bushyhead to lease the land to a group of white cattlemen around 1880. Bell was appointed to look after the revenue of the strip, and proved the possibility of deriving a profit from the land. Bell was described thusly by one of his piers: "He is a man of great energy and pluck, aggressive and obstinate in disposition, yet withal, a statesman of no ordinary ability."
Over eight hundred thousand dollars had been collected from the lease in the last year. Though often contentious and with much Interior Department confusion and 'oversight', which was really political interference, this turned into a prosperous adventure for the Cherokee Tribe. The arrangement became known as the Cherokee Strip Livestock Association.
The deal benefited both the Cherokee and cattlemen for several years and set the stage for the large scale American cattle conglomerates. It also gave life to the legendary cattle drive and the term "Cowboy". Abilene, Wichita, Dodge City became prosperous cities and shipping points for beef as the cattle were driven north through the Cherokee Outlet. Until the Cherokee determined to lease the land, the strip had been used for these drives and grazing since 1867 with no benefit to them and only the destruction of the land they 'held' but could not use.
The Department of the Interior continued to say they would not approve of any leases on these lands, though they admitted the Cherokee had possession of it. More politically connected men of the times had influence in the Capitol and the push was fierce for white settlement of the strip. The area was fast becoming the economic and geographic 'hub' of the country.
In 1889 a commission was appointed to settle the disputes over the Cherokee Strip. The Cherokees were offered a dollar and a quarter an acre to give up their 'rights' to the land. They had been offered three dollars per acre by cattlemen, but the government would not approve the transaction demanding that the government held title. The Commissioner of Indian Affairs, T. J. Morgan disagreed and said that for Congress to take these lands would be for the "Government to violate its faith and disregard its solemn obligations."
President Harrison issued a proclamation forbidding all grazing on the lands of the Cherokee Outlet and ordered all cattle to be removed by October 1, 1890. In 1891, the Cherokee Chief was Joel Mayes, who was elected in 1887. After the governments insults and threats, the Cherokee had no desire to spill more blood. They signed the agreement to sell their last open lands for $1.40 per acre. Mayes died in office December 1891 in Tahlequah.
In the end, not only did the Cherokee lose the land, but white cattlemen were also pushed out in favor of settlement and farming. And finally on September 16, 1893, 'The Run' to settle the Strip, took place at high noon by edict of President Cleveland. On horses, wagons and on foot, more than one hundred thousand settlers raced for forty thousand homesteads. Migrants from most areas of the country and many foreigners took part in the historic land grab. All were allowed, except the Indian.
Nearly a century later, in 1961, the Cherokee Nation was awarded fifteen million dollars by the U.S. Claims Commission for lands of the Cherokee Outlet. Not only is justice blind, as they say, but at times so delayed that the true victims have no way to know justice was done in their name only to profit those who were never victimized.
At the end of the Civil War, only four of the family of twelve children of John Bell, Jr. and Charlotte Adair Bell were living. Brother Jarrett, who became a school teacher, left Indian Territory at the end of the war and died at Mt. Tabor in 1875 of conditions resulting from the wounds received as a prisoner of war serving for the Confederacy.
Upon returning to their fifteen hundred acre plantation in Wood County, Texas, Dr. William Dupree and wife Charlotte Bell Dupree found the local economy in shambles. Their stock and equipment had been taken by refugees and freedmen. It would be another ten years before they and their children could return to their southern style home and land that once produced corn, sugar cane and cotton. After Dr. Dupree died in Texas in 1892, Charlotte and her grown children returned to Indian Territory to claim their right as Cherokees to land under treaty allotment. Charlotte built a home in Vinita and lived there until her death in 1912.
Carrie hung on for another year after they left the refugee camps of Texas, returning to Webbers Falls for a short time, where Jim Bell was left with five motherless children to raise. After his wife died, Bell took their children back to the once beautiful Grand River bottom land on Mockingbird Hill near present day Vinita, Oklahoma, which was also devastated by the war.
At the same time he would use his legal and leadership skills to restore legitimacy and order to the Cherokee Nation, their community and schools. He practiced law and became a rancher, spending much time with his sister Sally and her children until her death in 1882, and with various nephews and nieces who had been made orphans of the war.
One after another, Jim watched four of his five children die at young ages. Son Joseph died in August of 1868 at age ten, possibly the result of a fall from a horse near the end of the war. The two oldest daughters, Minnie and Mattie, were fatalities of TB by 1885. Baby William Watie, born during the war, lived until age thirty, and was buried in the Watie-Bell family cemetery in 1894.
At the war's end, Hooley Bell went back to Rusk County, Texas and planted a failed cotton crop, typical for that year. The following year he moved to Delaware District, Cherokee Nation, and farmed for several years, then to Tahlequah where he served as President in the Cherokee Senate, often arguing on behalf of his people in Washington D.C. "Cousin Hooley" passed two months before his Uncle Jim Bell and is buried at Vinita, Oklahoma.
James Madison Bell, "Colo-Gotte-Yon", c. 1865
Lena on the left, cousin Leonard O'Neal on the right
Chapter 17 - One Tin Soldier
Searcy County, Arkansas, Circa 1914
"Grampa! Look at that fancy buggy comin' down the road yonder!" Lena announced as they continued their long walk home. "Don't look like anyone I know. Who do you think it is, Grampa? My! Look at them fine matchin' horses! They sure step proud. What kind are they, Grampa?"
The gray haired Negro driver pulled the carriage near Jim and Lena as the elderly gentleman next to him bid them good day.
"Do you know of a good place to eat close by, Sir? My companion and I have traveled from Oklahoma." The tall white haired man, clad in a tasteful suit and bow tie, asked as he climbed from the buggy and offered his hand to Jim.
Grampa pointed east giving him directions. "Yes, Sir, on down the road there not far. The Campbell Hotel serves up some mighty fine cabbage and fruit cobbler. All you can eat fer two bits. Overnight lodgings are a dollar. You'll see a sign on the balcony that says 'Snowball' above a handsome porch and good well water just outside for them horses."
Lena didn't resist smacking her lips and offering, "Fer breakfast I heard they have fried chicken, biscuits n' gravy, all kinds of homemade jelly, plenty of churned butter and a delicious drizzle of Arkansas honey! And sometimes they have a singin' at Snowball on Sunday evenin's!"
"Well! We would love to go to a singin', wouldn't we, Lewis!" The traveler said. "Snowball it shall be,! I truly love sweet Arkansas honey with my coffee! Clicking his tongue, he added, "In luck, ain't I?"
"You're a long way from home, I hope the weather holds out for ya. My name is Jim O'Neal. This here is Thomas, 'er Lena." Grampa chuckled as he tapped her on the hat with his cane.
The stranger replied, "Yes, you're right about that. It was usually frozen or burning every time I was here before. I still have family and friends around here and wanted to see them one more time. Pleased to meet you Mr. O'Neal. My name is James Madison Bell and this is my friend Lewis." Lewis nodded and smiled, still hanging on steadily but gently to the reins.
"Colonel James Bell?" Grampa hesitatingly asked, as if he'd seen the ghost of Robert E. Lee himself.
Bell nodded. "Yes, I was with the Cherokee Mounted Rifles. That was a long time ago. Have we met?"
Lena took a step backwards and watched as her Grampa stood very straight and tall. Grampa began in a matter of fact tone.
"Well, Sir, once or twice when I was a scared youngun' we met! And I was just trying to get home, the war was about done. I was shore done with it! Your troops came on us after that scrape up at Dardanelle. We was all sittin' ducks bein' that you all was dressed in Union duds. You could have just shot the lot of us, but you told me to get on home where I was needed. You told me I had a lot of work ahead of me. You was right about that! I've been grateful ever since. I heard tell about some of your mishaps and doings from the papers over the years. Are you still fighting them Pin Injuns, Colonel Bell?"
"No, they've been behaving themselves lately." Bell laughed. "They killed off most of us and finally gave up. Or was it the other way around, Lewis? I forget." He smiled and winked at his driver as Lewis contained a deep laugh, shaking his head.
"Mr. O'Neal, if we hadn't run out of ammunition, you might have met a different fate. We couldn't take you prisoner. We could hardly feed ourselves and no where to keep you or ourselves. We were all homeless. Besides, you boys defended Dardanelle and won that one fair and square. Well, Sir," Bell said as he extended his hand to Jim, "I'm pleased to know that one good memory came out of that war."
Lena knew she was to be seen and not heard and she was about to burst wide open with questions. She'd never seen a real Indian before not to mention a real Negro all in the same fancy buggy! Bell leaned down, took her hand and asked, "Do you go to school, young lady?"
"Why, Yes, Sir! I can read and write my letters and say my numbers to one hundred! I started when I was five! And we just been to and recited our verses. Can you read? How old are you, Mister?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I'm pleased to say I can read when these old eyes allow me. So can Lewis. And if the Lord is willing, I shall be eighty-eight on my next birthday. I'm sorry to say we missed this morning. We must be on our way if we're going to make it in time for supper and that honey. I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Lena. You study and learn all you can," Bell lectured, "Don't let anyone tell you that you can't make a difference in this world."
"Colonel Bell, Lewis, you take care of yourselves and enjoy your visit with your people. Proud to meet you both." Grampa said as he waved goodbye.
"You as well, Mr. O'Neal," Bell said, tipping his hat and then climbing into the buggy. "Most of my family was gone within a few years after that war, so I treasure the ones I have left. The good people in this part of Arkansas fed me and my whole clan when I was twelve years old and real hungry and cold, when we first came West. And there's still good folks here. Perhaps we'll meet again one day."
With that farewell the pair of strangers departed for the remainder of their journey. Lena was tugging on her Grampa's sleeve, out of breath even before she could speak. "I sure didn't know that's what an Injun looks like!" She finally exploded.
Grampa smiled and shook his head. "Thomas, you hear too may tall tales. Keep askin' those questions....just be careful who you're askin'."
Lena was quiet for a moment, then wondered, "If he was a Reb, and you was a Yankee, why did he let you get away when you met up with him durin' the war, Grampa? I mean, I'm ever so glad he didn't shoot ya or scalp ya, but how come?"
"Aw, he knew he had no fight with me, Thomas. We was just hungry, half naked kids. Most of them was too. Us boys all wanted the same thing no matter what side we was fightin' on. We just wanted our homes and children safe and free and that war to be over with. By then we all knew no one was winnin' nothin' anyway. We was all prayin' for the same things. I just pray we fought that war then so you younguns never have to."
Lena looked curiously up at her Grampa, seriously squinting her eyes and asked, "What do you 'spose God thinks 'bout all those folks killin' each other and all prayin' to him at the very same time? And my name is LENA!", she insisted with her hands planted firmly on her bony hips.
Her Grampa smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "Simmer down, little one. They say doubtin' Thomas had more questions for Jesus than all the other disciples put together! And some say Thomas was the most loved of them all. So you just keep askin' your questions."
Grampa exhaled a deep, slow breath and then replied. "As for what the Good Lord thought about that war and all of us in it, well, I reckon brother Ben gave you the only answer there is in church this mornin'."
"Jesus Wept."
The End
Chapter 17 - One Tin Soldier
Searcy County, Arkansas, Circa 1914
"Grampa! Look at that fancy buggy comin' down the road yonder!" Lena announced as they continued their long walk home. "Don't look like anyone I know. Who do you think it is, Grampa? My! Look at them fine matchin' horses! They sure step proud. What kind are they, Grampa?"
The gray haired Negro driver pulled the carriage near Jim and Lena as the elderly gentleman next to him bid them good day.
"Do you know of a good place to eat close by, Sir? My companion and I have traveled from Oklahoma." The tall white haired man, clad in a tasteful suit and bow tie, asked as he climbed from the buggy and offered his hand to Jim.
Grampa pointed east giving him directions. "Yes, Sir, on down the road there not far. The Campbell Hotel serves up some mighty fine cabbage and fruit cobbler. All you can eat fer two bits. Overnight lodgings are a dollar. You'll see a sign on the balcony that says 'Snowball' above a handsome porch and good well water just outside for them horses."
Lena didn't resist smacking her lips and offering, "Fer breakfast I heard they have fried chicken, biscuits n' gravy, all kinds of homemade jelly, plenty of churned butter and a delicious drizzle of Arkansas honey! And sometimes they have a singin' at Snowball on Sunday evenin's!"
"Well! We would love to go to a singin', wouldn't we, Lewis!" The traveler said. "Snowball it shall be,! I truly love sweet Arkansas honey with my coffee! Clicking his tongue, he added, "In luck, ain't I?"
"You're a long way from home, I hope the weather holds out for ya. My name is Jim O'Neal. This here is Thomas, 'er Lena." Grampa chuckled as he tapped her on the hat with his cane.
The stranger replied, "Yes, you're right about that. It was usually frozen or burning every time I was here before. I still have family and friends around here and wanted to see them one more time. Pleased to meet you Mr. O'Neal. My name is James Madison Bell and this is my friend Lewis." Lewis nodded and smiled, still hanging on steadily but gently to the reins.
"Colonel James Bell?" Grampa hesitatingly asked, as if he'd seen the ghost of Robert E. Lee himself.
Bell nodded. "Yes, I was with the Cherokee Mounted Rifles. That was a long time ago. Have we met?"
Lena took a step backwards and watched as her Grampa stood very straight and tall. Grampa began in a matter of fact tone.
"Well, Sir, once or twice when I was a scared youngun' we met! And I was just trying to get home, the war was about done. I was shore done with it! Your troops came on us after that scrape up at Dardanelle. We was all sittin' ducks bein' that you all was dressed in Union duds. You could have just shot the lot of us, but you told me to get on home where I was needed. You told me I had a lot of work ahead of me. You was right about that! I've been grateful ever since. I heard tell about some of your mishaps and doings from the papers over the years. Are you still fighting them Pin Injuns, Colonel Bell?"
"No, they've been behaving themselves lately." Bell laughed. "They killed off most of us and finally gave up. Or was it the other way around, Lewis? I forget." He smiled and winked at his driver as Lewis contained a deep laugh, shaking his head.
"Mr. O'Neal, if we hadn't run out of ammunition, you might have met a different fate. We couldn't take you prisoner. We could hardly feed ourselves and no where to keep you or ourselves. We were all homeless. Besides, you boys defended Dardanelle and won that one fair and square. Well, Sir," Bell said as he extended his hand to Jim, "I'm pleased to know that one good memory came out of that war."
Lena knew she was to be seen and not heard and she was about to burst wide open with questions. She'd never seen a real Indian before not to mention a real Negro all in the same fancy buggy! Bell leaned down, took her hand and asked, "Do you go to school, young lady?"
"Why, Yes, Sir! I can read and write my letters and say my numbers to one hundred! I started when I was five! And we just been to and recited our verses. Can you read? How old are you, Mister?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I'm pleased to say I can read when these old eyes allow me. So can Lewis. And if the Lord is willing, I shall be eighty-eight on my next birthday. I'm sorry to say we missed this morning. We must be on our way if we're going to make it in time for supper and that honey. I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Lena. You study and learn all you can," Bell lectured, "Don't let anyone tell you that you can't make a difference in this world."
"Colonel Bell, Lewis, you take care of yourselves and enjoy your visit with your people. Proud to meet you both." Grampa said as he waved goodbye.
"You as well, Mr. O'Neal," Bell said, tipping his hat and then climbing into the buggy. "Most of my family was gone within a few years after that war, so I treasure the ones I have left. The good people in this part of Arkansas fed me and my whole clan when I was twelve years old and real hungry and cold, when we first came West. And there's still good folks here. Perhaps we'll meet again one day."
With that farewell the pair of strangers departed for the remainder of their journey. Lena was tugging on her Grampa's sleeve, out of breath even before she could speak. "I sure didn't know that's what an Injun looks like!" She finally exploded.
Grampa smiled and shook his head. "Thomas, you hear too may tall tales. Keep askin' those questions....just be careful who you're askin'."
Lena was quiet for a moment, then wondered, "If he was a Reb, and you was a Yankee, why did he let you get away when you met up with him durin' the war, Grampa? I mean, I'm ever so glad he didn't shoot ya or scalp ya, but how come?"
"Aw, he knew he had no fight with me, Thomas. We was just hungry, half naked kids. Most of them was too. Us boys all wanted the same thing no matter what side we was fightin' on. We just wanted our homes and children safe and free and that war to be over with. By then we all knew no one was winnin' nothin' anyway. We was all prayin' for the same things. I just pray we fought that war then so you younguns never have to."
Lena looked curiously up at her Grampa, seriously squinting her eyes and asked, "What do you 'spose God thinks 'bout all those folks killin' each other and all prayin' to him at the very same time? And my name is LENA!", she insisted with her hands planted firmly on her bony hips.
Her Grampa smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "Simmer down, little one. They say doubtin' Thomas had more questions for Jesus than all the other disciples put together! And some say Thomas was the most loved of them all. So you just keep askin' your questions."
Grampa exhaled a deep, slow breath and then replied. "As for what the Good Lord thought about that war and all of us in it, well, I reckon brother Ben gave you the only answer there is in church this mornin'."
"Jesus Wept."
The End
Headstone of John Bell Jr. found in the bottom of an oil barrell c. 1930 near what was the community of Mount Tabor, Texas. He died in 1852.The cemetery was destroyed by oil drillers.
Elias "Cornelius" Boudinot, c. 1870
Treaty of the Birds Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
go ahead and cheat a friend,
Do it in the name of Heaven ,
justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowin'
come the judgment day,
And the bloody morning after,
one tin soldier rides away.
Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter
go ahead and cheat a friend,
Do it in the name of Heaven ,
justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowin'
come the judgment day,
And the bloody morning after,
one tin soldier rides away.
Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter
It was my JOY getting to know the Bell family and being adopted by so many of them. I have decided to not publish more books and give the manuscript to the public here.
Thank you,
Billie Nix, aka JustAnotherSavage
copyright
NO publication of any material herein is allowed without my permission.
Contents are from a rough draft that didn't burn in the Alameda fire. There will be grammatical errors.
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