Chapter 2:     THE GRANITE HILLS

We now are in the land of the Osage, Quapaw, Caddo and Washiita. Our herbs and native medicines are gone. Cherokee people that are here have traded at the government trading post for years.

I am told there is a Cherokee reservation west of here. The Ft. Smith, military outpost was built to keep our Cherokee that had migrated Westward from engaging in battles with the Osage. We have only defended ourselves. We do not battle to conquer. Many of those we call the Lost Children live now in this Ark Saw place. They are along the bayous and the rivers . Their main Chief is The Bowl "v-ga-nu-we-u-we".. There is another we are told Toluntuskee.

We are hopeful that the lost children settlements will renew our medicines and offer us blankets. Our Chief Bushyhead, follows far behind with another group. A-wi-a, has heard from the elders those unable to cross the Grandfather river are very sick and over 5000 have died on the other side.

This winter of the Blue Moon, has been very harsh on this land. I gather Moss from the Oaks to burn in the night time. When we reach a settlement of the lost children we again should have bear oil for our lanterns. There is not room for all of us under the wagons. The elders give the children what blankets are now left. We have been admonished for destroying those we started with, we did not do this, and they were stolen by the Crow or destroyed by the dog's that travel with the Crow.

All scissors and razors were confiscated as the Government said they could be used as weapons. The men that wanted to shave had to go to a special wagon before we set out for the day to shave. Some now wear their hair long. Many men now wear their heads in wrapped cloth from the clothing of those dead. We have had to desecregate our people by removing their clothing so it can be used by the living.

A-Wia, has grown steadily weaker, I can hear the coughing all about me. The cough and flux as much our enemy as the Crow. We now have passed where Grandfather river overflows the land. Its waters back up into the smaller streams the water runs fast coming upon us without warning. This land grows cotton, but it is not the season for growing. The mud is thick and hard to get the wagons through.

It does no good for the leaders to ask for more food and coverings. The federal leader of this trail is Bell it is told he wants a promotion. So we are pushed to exhaustion every day. We no longer are able to move far from the conditions of the land The march moved faster in the Mountains of Tennessee than here in the flat land.

I dare not think of our home. The smell of dried food, herbs and baking bread. To feel the warmth of my bed the warmth, of a fire in the stone fireplace. Few pleasures I now feel involve being allowed to go to the river, to clean ourselves. We wash some clothing, it is far too cold to bathe the few remaining small children. The air is so dense and cold we cannot wash the blankets that are left. Bitter frost covers all each morning. The harsh winter sun does shine but it gives little warmth.

Now we are leaving the flat hard fields and moving toward small mountains of granite. I have made a friend my age her name is Lark, she and her Father travel now in our wagon. Her Father plays the flute she plays the bow harp. We leave these flat fields Lark plays her bow harp thinking our journey will soon end. A-wia, says NO! we have far yet to go I fear none of us will survive.

A-wia chants for knowledge of her husband and daughter who escaped this march. Do they still live? I no longer think of my sister Sara her name in our language is Ladybird "A-yw-wi-ya-a-ge-yv-a-ni-tsi-s-qa". We shorten it to "Tsi-s-que".