by Jean Fischer
“Will you hire me?” Elizabeth interrupted.
“Of course!” Sydney responded. “You and all of the Camp Club Girls.”
“Lord, help me,” Aunt Dee prayed, as she poured herself a cup of coffee from a white carafe on the table.
It was two weeks before the start of a new school year. Aunt Dee was temporarily working as a park ranger at Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and she’d invited Sydney and her friend Elizabeth to stay with her for a week.
“I’m sorry I can’t get off work more while you’re here,” said Aunt Dee. “I expect you to keep out of trouble. There’s plenty for you to do in Cherokee. You can shop, hike the nature trails, go horseback riding—”
“Or how about a helicopter ride?” said a voice from the next table. The girls turned around to see another girl who looked about the same age as Sydney and Elizabeth. She had long, shiny, crow-black hair and eyes the color of almonds.
“I hope you don’t mind that I heard your conversation,” she said, “but I was thinking: Maybe, since you’re so good at solving mysteries, you can help me solve the mystery surrounding my grandmother.”
The girl got up and walked around to their table. “I’m Galilahi Lowrey,” she introduced herself. A man and woman got up from the table and followed her. Sydney noticed that their skin, like the girl’s, was the color of sandstone.
“These are my parents, Jack and Melvina Lowrey,” she added.
“I’m Sydney Lincoln.” Sydney responded. “And this is Elizabeth Anderson.”
Aunt Dee introduced herself to Galilahi’s mom and dad.
“So what’s this about a helicopter ride?” asked Sydney.
“We moved here from Oklahoma in June,” said Mr. Lowrey. “I worked at an oil refinery there, but it shut down. We have friends here on the Cherokee reservation. One of them owns a helicopter-tour attraction, and he offered me a job.”
Mr. Lowrey reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folder filled with business cards. He gave some to Aunt Dee and the girls. The cards had a photograph of a black-and-yellow helicopter and the words: “Helicopter Tours, See the Smokies from the Sky.”
“I’m a pilot with the company. You’re welcome to come and take a ride any time. My treat.”
“Cool!” said Sydney. “Can we, Aunt Dee?”
“That sounds like fun,” her aunt answered. “And thank you, Mr. Lowrey,” she added.
Elizabeth slid the business card into a pocket in her tote bag. “I didn’t know Cherokee has an Indian reservation,” she said.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Lowrey answered. “The Eastern band of Cherokee. The reservation is next to Great Smoky Mountains National Park.”
“That’s where Aunt Dee works,” Sydney exclaimed.
“I’m a park ranger there right now,” Aunt Dee told them. “I’m filling in for a ranger who was injured in an accident. I’m familiar with the reservation. In fact, girls, I was just going to suggest that you check out some of the attractions near there. There’s plenty to see and learn about.”
Sydney took the last bite of her omelet. She squished up the paper napkin that had been on her lap and laid it on her empty plate.
“Do you live on the reservation?” she asked the Lowreys.
“No,” Mrs. Lowrey said. “I’m embarrassed to say we don’t know much about the Cherokee culture. When my grandmother was a girl, she lived on the reservation in Oklahoma, but when she grew up and got married, she and my grandfather moved to Blackgum. They owned a little diner and bait shop there near Lake Tenkiller.”
“Great-Grandma Rogers is the one who named me,” said Galilahi. “She gave me an old family name.”
“Galilahi means ‘attractive’,” her mother added. “A beautiful name for our beautiful daughter.”
Galilahi blushed.
A waitress came to the table and asked if Aunt Dee wanted more coffee. Aunt Dee said she didn’t, and the waitress handed her the bill.
“So is that the grandma whose house you’re looking for?” Sydney wondered.
“No,” Galilahi answered. “I’m looking for the house of my fifth great-grandmother. She’s the one Great-Grandma Rogers named me after.”
Aunt Dee opened her wallet and counted out money to pay the bill. She laid a tip for the waitress on the table.
“You have five great-grandmas?” said Sydney.
“No,” Galilahi responded. “I probably should have said it’s my great-great-great-great-great grandmother, but that’s a mouthful.”
“It sure is,” Elizabeth laughed. “Let’s just call her Grandma Number Five.”
“Or Grandma Hisgi,” said Galilahi. “Hisgi means ‘five’ in Cherokee.”
“Heeshk,” Sydney repeated. “Am I saying it right?”
“You are,” Galilahi confirmed.
“Galilahi knows more Cherokee words than we do,” Mrs. Lowrey told Aunt Dee. “My husband and I never learned the language. Lea is very close to my grandmother, and she’s learned a lot about the Cherokees from her.”
“Great-Grandmother is very old now,” said Galilahi. “She’s almost ninety.”
“Do people call you Lea?” Elizabeth asked.
“Only my parents,” said Galilahi. “I like my real name.”
“Then that’s what I’ll call you,” said Sydney. “Oo-lee-LOW-hee. I like the way your real name sounds.”
The waitress came to their table again, and Aunt Dee handed her the money.
“Why don’t we walk down to the river?” Mr. Lowrey suggested. “It’s a pretty day to be outside, and we can get better acquainted—unless you have other plans.”
“No, that would be nice,” said Aunt Dee. “I’m happy the girls have found each other.”
They left the restaurant and walked to a wooded area on the bank of the Oconaluftee River. It was peaceful compared to the clattering of plates and silverware in the restaurant. Birds sang from their perches in the trees, and the narrow river flowed in a gentle ripple. Occasionally, a big fish would leap into the air, making a big splash as it swam downstream.
“Trout,” said Mr. Lowrey. “Keep your eyes open. Some birds like to hang out around here and fish for trout and the fingerlings.”
“Fingerlings?” said Elizabeth.
“Baby trout,” Mr. Lowrey explained. “It’s a little early in the season, but you just might see some osprey swoop down and grab the fish right out of the water. Lunch to go!”
“Dad!” Galilahi protested.
“Well, honey,” her father said, “it’s all a part of the food chain.”
“I know,” said Galilahi, “but I’d rather not hear about it.”
The Lowreys and Aunt Dee sat down at a picnic table on the riverbank. Meanwhile, the girls walked a little farther downstream. They sat on the edge of the river, took off their sandals, and stuck their feet into the water.
“So, tell us about Grandma Hisgi,” said Sydney, “and why do you want to find her house?”
“Well, it’s a long story,” Galilahi began. “Great-Grandmother Rogers told it to me, and it goes back hundreds of years.”
“Cool!” said Elizabeth. “I love old stories.”
“Grandma Hisgi was Great-Grandmother’s great-great-grand-mother,” said Galilahi.
“She’s the one who had your name,” said Elizabeth.
“Right,” Galilahi answered. “I was named Galilahi after her.”
A large bird circled over them, its wings stretched out gracefully.
“Grandma Hisgi was born in 1828, probably in Cherokee,” Galilahi continued. “Of course, this area was all wilderness then. The Cherokee people lived here for hundreds of years before the European explorers arrived.”
“That’s a long time ago,” Sydney said. “I can’t even imagine it!”
“When the settlers started arriving in this area, they didn’t understand the Cherokee people’s lifestyle. A lot of them thought the Cherokee should be just like them: live in the same sort of houses, wear the same kinds of clot
hes, and speak their language.”
“That’s not right!” Sydney protested.
“I know it isn’t,” Galilahi said. “But that’s how it was. The settlers didn’t like it that the Cherokee weren’t like them. So over time they started taking land away from the Cherokee people and making it their own.”
“Didn’t the Cherokees fight back?” asked Sydney.
Galilahi dipped her fingers into the cool water and splashed some onto her short, thin legs.
“They tried, but there were so many settlers by then, that the Cherokees couldn’t do much. The Cherokee people even tried to be more like the settlers so they would blend in. None of it mattered, because the settlers wanted them to get off the land and go someplace else.”
“That’s not fair,” said Elizabeth. “The Cherokee people were there first.”
“You’re right, Elizabeth,” said Galilahi. “But things were different back then. Even President Thomas Jefferson and, later, President Andrew Jackson, felt the Cherokee should give up their land. By that time, Grandma Hisgi was ten years old. And that’s when things got really bad.”
An osprey swooped to the water not far from where the girls sat. With lightning speed, it plunged its talons into the water, and carried a trout as it smoothly arced back into the sky.
“So, then what happened?” Elizabeth asked.
“The government forced the Cherokees off their land. It was a terrible thing to happen to the Cherokees,” Galilahi said. “They went, but it broke their hearts to leave. They were forced to immediately get on the road.
“The route they took was called the Trail of Tears,” Galilahi explained. “Nunna daul Tsuny. It means ‘the trail where they cried.’”
“Nuh nah dah ooh la chuh yee.” Sydney said each syllable slowly. Galilahi took her feet out of the water and slipped them into her sandals.
“No wonder they cried,” said Elizabeth. “Where did they go?”
“To Oklahoma,” Galilahi explained. “Where I used to live. Only they didn’t go on their own. Soldiers went along to make sure that they went where they were supposed to go, to a reservation that the government set up there. Not very many settlers lived in Oklahoma at that time—the white men hadn’t taken it over yet.
“The Cherokee people, almost fourteen thousand of them, had to walk more than a thousand miles from North Carolina to Oklahoma. The sick and old ones sometimes rode in wagons with the little children, but the rest of the Cherokee walked. It was cold and rainy a lot of the time.
“Great-Grandmother said that they walked for a whole year, and all sorts of terrible things happened along the way. By the time they got to Oklahoma, four thousand of the Cherokees had died.”
The girls sat quietly watching the fish jump.
“So Grandma Hisgi was part of the Trail of Tears?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, she wasn’t actually with them,” Galilahi said.
“What do you mean?” Sydney plucked a piece of grass and twisted it around her finger. She wished she’d brought along her notebook to write this down.
“Well, Great-Grandmother Rogers told me that Grandma Hisgi’s mother—she was my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother—”
“In other words, Grandma Number Six,” Elizabeth interjected.
“Yes. She left Grandma Hisgi behind,” Galilahi said.
“She just took off without her kid?” Sydney exclaimed.
“No,” Galilahi replied. “Not exactly. A few hundred Cherokee people got to stay here in North Carolina. It had something to do with them being official United States citizens. Anyway, Grandma Hisgi’s mom left Grandma Hisgi with one of those families.”
“Why? Seems like they would have wanted their daughter with them,” Elizabeth said.
“I don’t know why,” Galilahi explained. “Great-Grandmother Rogers never explained, and I never thought to ask.”
“Maybe she was sick and couldn’t make the journey. Or maybe for some reason they were afraid for her safety on the road,” Elizabeth speculated.
“Maybe,” said Galilahi.
“Did Grandma Hisgi ever see her parents again?” Sydney asked.
Galilahi tossed a stone into the river and watched the tiny circle-shaped ripples it made in the water. “I don’t know. Since her great-granddaughter, my Great-Grandmother Rogers, was in Oklahoma, we know that Grandma Hisgi had at least one child. And we know that one of her children or grandchildren went to Oklahoma at some point. Great-Grandmother Rogers’s parents died when she was very young, so no one seems to know how Grandma Hisgi’s great-great grandchildren ended up in Oklahoma.”
“So no one knows how your family got to Oklahoma—you don’t know if Grandma Hisgi ended up there or stayed here in Cherokee,” Sydney said.
“Yes. There’s only one other thing my great-grandmother knew,” Galilahi said.
“What’s that?” asked Sydney. She took her feet out of the water and slipped on her sandals.
“The name of the cabin that Grandma Hisgi grew up in here in Cherokee,” said Galilahi. “It was called the Cabin of the Rising Sun. I guess in those days they named their houses. They were probably named for where they were, like the House on the Hill, or the House on the Oconaluftee River.”
There was a splash as another trout jumped in the water.
“Or, the House Where the Trout Jumps,” said Sydney.
The girls laughed.
“And you don’t have any idea where the cabin was,” Elizabeth stated.
Galilahi stood up and brushed off the seat of her shorts. “That’s what I hope you guys can help me find out. I promised Great-Grandmother Rogers that when I moved here, I’d try to find the Cabin of the Rising Sun.
“I want to do it for her, but I also really want to find the cabin myself,” Galilahi said. “I don’t know if I can explain why.”
“I think I understand,” Elizabeth said. “I like knowing about our family history. It gives me a sense of where I’ve come from. It makes me feel like I belong.”
“Yes, I think that’s part of it for me too,” Galilahi said. “I love reading about history. So the history of my people, the Cherokees, interests me. And I want to know about this woman I was named after.
“I need to find out what happened to Grandma Hisgi. I know that the house was here somewhere. No one from my family has ever looked for it before, but I know that I can find it or find a trace of it.”
“Finding the house will help Grandma Hisgi come alive to you, won’t it?” Sydney asked.
“Yes, it will help make her more real to me. If I’m named after someone, I want her to become real in my life. I can feel it in my heart that I need to look for the cabin, like my ancient ancestors are speaking to me.”
“Or maybe it’s God speaking to your heart,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Maybe,” Galilahi replied. “So, what do you think? Do you want to help me?”
“Of course we do!” said Sydney. “Don’t we, Beth?”
Elizabeth shook the water off her bare feet. “Of course,” she agreed.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”
Suddenly a scream split the air.
Sunrise in the Smokies
“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhgggg!”
The scream destroyed the calmness again, as this time it gurgled away in a little sob.
Galilahi jumped backward away from the riverbank. Her scream quieted as her parents and Aunt Dee rushed over.
“Yeeeeeech!” Galilahi said. A bit sheepishly she pointed at the water. “It’s a spider. I don’t like them. It almost bit me.”
A brown water spider skimmed along the surface. “There’s an old Cherokee legend that says a water spider brought fire to the Cherokee people,” she said.
“The way the sun brings fire to the sky when it rises in the east,” Sydney announced. “The Cabin of the Rising Sun. Girls, I think we have a mystery to solve.”
The next morning, before daybreak, Mr. Lowrey and Galilahi arrived at Aunt Dee’s apartment to p
ick up the girls. They found Elizabeth prodding a very sleepy Sydney out the front door.
“Come on,” Mr. Lowrey called from the driver’s seat of the old, blue SUV. “The Smoky Mountains are beautiful at sunrise.”
Sydney rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Even at Discovery Lake Camp, we didn’t get up this early,” she mumbled, sliding into the backseat.
“Oh, but it’s the best time of day,” said Mr. Lowrey as Elizabeth climbed in beside her. “You can see the world wake up, little by little.
“On our way!” he said, giving the gas pedal a push. The car backfired and chugged and then kicked into gear. “The heliport is about a half hour’s drive from here. The helicopter tours moved out of Cherokee awhile back, because of the noise. People complained.”
“I can understand why,” said Elizabeth. “There were helicopters in the Amarillo Air Show last summer. They were really noisy, especially when they flew over our heads.”
Mr. Lowrey laughed. “Well, you can expect our ride today to be noisy too. There’s not much that I can do about it. If the noise stops, then you have to worry.”
“Not funny, Dad,” said Galilahi. “So, Elizabeth, are you from Texas?”
“I am,” Elizabeth answered. “My family’s lived in Amarillo forever. We love everything about it—especially our church.”
“Beth is the queen of scripture verses,” Sydney announced. “She studies the Bible, and she has a verse for just about everything. Do you go to church?”
“Sometimes,” said Galilahi. “Great-Grandmother goes to church, so when we lived in Oklahoma I went with her. A few times, I’ve gone to a church here in Cherokee.”
Sydney thought about asking Mr. Lowrey if he went to the church too, but something in her heart told her to wait. She’d learned to trust those feelings.
In a few minutes, they arrived at the heliport site—a big, grassy field surrounded by groves of trees. As they pulled into the gravel parking lot, a wild cloud of swirling dust shrouded the car.
