by Jean Fischer
They had arrived at the stream now. The makeshift fishing hook and line were in the middle of the path.
“I’ve never heard of her,” Billy John answered. “Sorry, Galilahi, but I don’t think my dad knows much beyond what happened to Nanny Kingfisher, way back when. We talk about family history sometimes at family get-togethers. I don’t remember much about it.” He stopped, picked up a stone, and tossed it at a fish swimming in the water.
Sydney was disappointed. They had followed the clues, and all the landmarks seemed to fit their theory. She had been so sure that they would find the Cabin of the Rising Sun, but just like Galilahi said, they’d reached a dead end.
“Why are you so certain the cabin no longer exists?” she asked Billy John.
He picked up the crude fishing line from the path, then cast the hook into the water, forgetting he hadn’t put any bait on it. He stood on the stream bank.
“Stop stalling,” Sydney scolded him. “Tell us what you know.”
Billy John sighed. “Well … I know a few of the old Cherokee cabins were saved. They were restored and moved to Indian Village.”
“We know that!” said Elizabeth. “We were there yesterday. So, tell us something we don’t know.”
“Well …” He tugged a bit on the makeshift line. “There might be one more cabin that exists out there somewhere.” He wound some of the line around his right hand.
Galilahi took a step forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with her distant cousin. “Might exist, or does exist?” she asked.
The boy unwound the line from his hand and let the whole thing slip away in the stream. “Okay!” he blurted. “One old cabin still exists, and I know where it is.”
“Where?” Sydney and Galilahi both said at the same time.
Billy John looked down at his feet. “I can’t tell you,” he said quietly. “But I’m sure that it’s not the cabin that you’re looking for.”
Sydney was determined to squeeze out every drop of information that Billy John Kingfisher had about the old cabin.
“Why won’t you tell us where it is?” she insisted.
“Because,” he said, looking at her and wiping his hands on his jeans, “I’d have to break a promise, and I don’t break promises.”
“What can you tell us without breaking your promise?” Sydney asked.
They all began walking west on the dirt road.
“There’s this old woman,” said Billy John. “She’s ancient, about a hundred years old. She lives in a cabin—I can’t tell you where, because that’s what I promised. She practices the old Cherokee ways, and she’s lived in the cabin her whole life. I found it one day when I was exploring. I made friends with her, and I visit her a lot and listen to her stories. I don’t think anyone knows about her, or if they do they’ve forgotten or they just don’t care anymore. I bring her food sometimes, and I help out around her place when she’ll let me. She’s a tough old lady. She likes to do everything on her own.”
Sydney was beginning to feel differently about Billy John. Maybe he wasn’t so bad if he was helping an old lady.
“Billy John,” she said. “If she’s that old, then she must know a lot of history about the Cherokee people who lived here after the Trail of Tears. Do you think you could get her to talk with us? I’m not asking you to break your promise.”
Billy John thought for a minute.
“We’re apparently family,” he said to Galilahi. “And now I’m curious about Grandma Hisgi too. Let’s meet at the entrance to Indian Village tomorrow at noon. I’ll see what I can do.”
That night as the girls got ready for bed, Sydney felt uneasy.
“I still don’t know if I trust Billy John,” she said. “Do you think he’s just playing around with us, and when we get there tomorrow, it’ll be another dead end?”
Elizabeth sat on her bed brushing her hair in the guest room at Aunt Dee’s apartment.
“I don’t know, Syd. But I think we have to follow through for Galilahi’s sake. We promised that we’d help her.” She pulled her hair back and fastened it with a ponytail holder.
Sydney sat on her own bed, browsing through a magazine.
“You’re right. We did promise,” she answered. “Let’s see what the other girls think.”
She closed the magazine and logged onto the Camp Club Girls’ chat room where the girls had agreed to meet at nine o’clock. Kate, McKenzie, Alexis, and Bailey were already waiting, eager to hear about what had happened that day. Sydney was just as eager to share her thoughts about Billy John.
McKenzie: I agree that you can’t be sure about Billy John. Your first instinct was that he wasn’t being totally honest with you guys. How do you know he’s being truthful now?
Sydney: I can’t, but we’ve reached the end of the line. We’ve followed every clue and have come up with nothing. It seems our next chance of finding the Cabin of the Rising Sun is to talk with the old Cherokee woman.
McKenzie: If she even exists.
Elizabeth: I think we have to give Billy John an opportunity to prove he’s being honest. He regularly goes to church, so I’m guessing he must be a Christian.
McKenzie: Maybe, but hasn’t he been lying to you?
Elizabeth: He’s kept a secret and has made remarks about our looking for the cabin, but I don’t think he’s lied.
Sydney: He talks in circles and never gives a straight answer. He says, “Oh, never mind” or changes the subject.
Bailey: I think you have to give BJ a chance to prove himself. What’s the worst that can happen?
Alexis: Bailey’s right. We can’t give up yet. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve almost given up trying to solve a Nancy Drew mystery. Then, I follow one last clue, and I get it!
Kate: Is there anything that I can do to help?
Sydney: Thanks, K8, but no. Your software worked great. It really helped that you gave us directions to the trail. It just turned out to be a dead end. We’ll go to Indian Village with G. at noon tomorrow and see if Billy John is there.
Kate: Keep in touch. We’re only a text message away.
Sydney: Will do. We’re signing off now. Nighty-night.
Bailey: Nighters, fellow sleuthies.
McKenzie: Sleep tight.
Alex: Don’t let the bedbugs bite.
Kate: Biscuit says good night too.
As Sydney shut down the computer, she was lost in thought.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Elizabeth asked.
“Just keep thinking about Billy John,” Sydney said. “Something in me just keeps telling me that maybe we just can’t trust him.”
The Curious Cherokee Cabin
“Well, where is he?” Sydney snapped, looking at her watch.
The girls had spent the morning shopping with Aunt Dee. At noon, they went to Indian Village where they found Galilahi waiting. A heavy rain the night before had left the woods smelling musty and damp, and now, thick, gray clouds hid any hint of sunshine. It was a chilly, summer day in North Carolina. Visitors to the village wore windbreakers and carried umbrellas.
“Where do you think Billy is?” Sydney said again.
“It’s just a quarter past twelve,” Elizabeth answered. “Let’s give him some time.”
Sydney leaned against a signpost and crossed her arms.
“I’m waiting until 12:30 and that’s it,” she said, after a few minutes.
“He’ll be here,” Galilahi responded. “I’m sure of it.”
“I’m not so sure we can trust him,” Sydney said.
The girls waited, barely talking. Sydney kept checking her watch.
“That’s it,” said Sydney when 12:30 arrived. “I’m done. Billy John Kingfisher had his chance, and he blew it.” She started to walk away.
“No!” Galilahi insisted. “We have to wait for him. He’ll show up. Just give him five more minutes!”
“Yeah! Give me five more minutes!”
Billy John trudged out of the woods just a few yards away. H
is face was ruddy, he was almost out of breath, and his shoes were caked with gooey dirt mixed with pine needles.
“It’s muddy in there,” he said, pointing into the woods. “It took longer than I expected to get back here. But I hurried.”
Sydney almost felt sorry for him.
“Get back here from where?” she asked.
“From Mrs. Hummingbird’s place,” he said. “I had to ask permission for you guys to meet her. And, lucky for you, she agreed. But with one condition.”
“What’s the condition?” Sydney asked suspiciously.
“You have to promise—and I mean promise—that you won’t tell a single soul about her or where she lives. She doesn’t know you so she doesn’t trust you. But she trusts me, and I’ve given her my word. And Lea, I mean Galilahi, it’s only because we’re cousins that she’s agreed to talk with you.” Billy John said nothing for a few seconds, still trying to catch his breath. “So, do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” Galilahi said, enthusiastically.
“I do too,” Elizabeth agreed.
“I guess so,” said Sydney.
“I need better than ‘I guess so,’” Billy John warned.
“Okay, okay, I promise!” Sydney blurted. “Take us to the hummingbird lady.”
Billy John smirked. “Patience, Sydney. I’m worn out from my hike, and before I head back in there again, I’m getting some lunch. Care to join me?”
Reluctantly, the girls followed Billy John Kingfisher to Indian Village’s snack bar.
Less than a half hour later, the friends began their trek into the woods. Billy John was their guide, and they had no choice but to trust him.
“There aren’t any trails back here,” Billy John said. “I know the way through the woods, so it’s real important we don’t get separated. Stay close behind me and be quiet. I don’t want anyone following us.”
“Like anyone would follow three kids,” Sydney grumbled.
“Ouch!” Galilahi rubbed her forearm where a bramble bush had poked her. “There’s stickers and stuff in here.”
Billy John stopped so abruptly that Sydney almost ran into him. He swung around and faced the girls.
“I have to know right now if you girls are strong enough to make this hike. We have more than a mile to go, and some of it is really rough. If you don’t think you can do it, we’ll turn back now.”
“Don’t worry; we can do it!” Sydney said. She gave his arm a little shove. “Get going.”
“Well, this is called the Gulch of Fallen Trees. And it isn’t called that for nothing,” he snapped.
“You mean they call it that because so many people fall down around here?” Elizabeth asked. “That’s different than normal.”
“No, they call it that because for some reason this land is not good for the trees,” said Billy. “They tend to grow tall and fast, but then instead of lasting for years as most trees do, they fall. That’s the way it’s been for hundreds of years. In former days, braves came here to pull out the fallen trees, and make canoes of them in the clearings.”
“Twice dead,” Elizabeth murmured. “Falling once, and then made into canoes.”
“What?” Billy John asked.
“It’s nothing,” Sydney said. “Why do the trees fall here so much?”
“I don’t know,” Billy John answered. “I don’t know if it’s some sort of pest that destroys the trees, or that they don’t get enough sunlight or water or whatever. Your aunt might know since she works with trees.
“But it does mean it’s always been a rough area, and if you can’t make it through, we need to stop now. Do you want to go on?”
The girls nodded. Billy John looked at each of them for a moment, then abruptly turned and led.
They walked east for a while, pushing their way past low-hanging branches and through bushes and thickets. The mud quickly piled up on their shoes. Every so often they stopped at an old log or a rock and tried, as best they could, to scrape the mud from the soles of their shoes.
“What a mess!” Galilahi complained. “I don’t like this at all.”
Before long, the group came to a small open stretch of land lined with rocks that were almost as tall as the girls. This rocky wall seemed to separate one part of the woods from the other.
“What’s this place?” Sydney wondered.
“I’m not sure,” Billy John told them. “And she isn’t either. Mrs. Hummingbird, I mean. But we think it’s left from a war, maybe the Civil War, or a war before that between the Cherokee people and the Europeans. Who knows? I think it’s what’s left of an old fort. There’s a cave over there, about a half mile.” He pointed south. “Mrs. Hummingbird says soldiers and Indians used it as a hiding place, but not at the same time.”
Sydney and Elizabeth gave each other knowing looks. They were in the Gulch of Fallen Trees, and now, as they hiked in the mountain woodlands, they’d come to some rocks, and there was a cave nearby. Neither had said anything. They knew this could be another dead end. Still, what they saw seemed to fit with the clues.
Sydney peeked over the rocks. On any other day, she might have been eager to explore and try to discover the meaning of this strange, stone wall. But today she was on a mission to find the Cabin of the Rising Sun.
“So now what?” she asked.
“We climb over it,” Billy John answered, matter-of-factly.
That wasn’t a problem for Sydney. She had once competed in the Junior Olympics and was tall. But the other girls weren’t so sure.
“I’m too short!” Galilahi objected.
“Billy John and I will help lift you over,” Sydney said.
“I can lift her by myself,” Billy John argued. “Come on, Galilahi. I’ll give you a boost. It’s a piece of cake; you’ll see.”
Galilahi walked up to the wall. Billy John and Sydney stood on each side. One … two … three … They lifted her until she was able to grab onto the top of one of the rocks and pull herself over.
“Are you okay?” Sydney asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Galilahi said from the other side.
“Your turn, Beth,” said Sydney.
Elizabeth approached the wall. “I think if I jump and you guys help just a little, I can make it over,” she decided.
“Okay. Ready?” Sydney asked.
“Ready,” said Elizabeth. She jumped, and Sydney and Billy John boosted her up and over the rocks.
Now, Billy John looked at Sydney and smiled. “You’re next Sydney. May I help you?” he said with a bit of sarcasm.
Sydney smiled right back at him. “I don’t need your help, Billy John. Thank you very much.”
She walked a short distance back, away from the wall. Then she sprinted toward it, jumped, grabbed onto the top of the rocks with both hands, and pulled herself to the other side.
“There,” she said. “I’m over. Come on, Billy John. We’re waiting for you.”
Not to be outdone, the boy did the same thing. He ran, jumped, and pulled himself over.
“Carry on,” he said, leading them deeper into the woods.
They made a little jog south, and few minutes later they came to a rushing stream.
“Careful now,” Billy John cautioned. “There are some deep ruts here in the ground. She says this used to be an old, dirt road that settlers used. These ruts are actually old wagon wheel tracks.”
The sound of rushing water grew louder. Sydney and Elizabeth exchanged another knowing look. They pushed their bodies through a thick stand of bushes, and there, right in front of them, was a river, swollen by last night’s rain. The white-capped water seemed to bubble and boil.
“The stream feeds into the river here. We have to walk along the bank to get to her place,” Billy John told them. “Watch your step. It’s narrow and slick. I don’t need any of you girls falling in.”
“Careful,” Sydney warned her friends. “If we fall into that, we’ll drown for sure. No one can swim in water that rough.”
They in
ched along the riverbank, carefully following in Billy John’s footsteps. As they went, he pointed out low branches they could hang onto to help them keep their footing.
“I can see why you were late meeting us today,” Sydney told him. “This is a rough hike.”
“Told you so,” Billy John agreed. “But we’re almost there. This is the worst part. Just a little ways ahead, and there’s a path that leads from the water back through the woods to her cabin.”
Sydney was anxious to get there. She and Elizabeth had plenty of experience trekking through the woods but Galilahi hadn’t. They made sure she walked between them, and they watched her, ready to grab her if they had to keep her from falling into the river.
Billy John stopped again.
“Here’s the path,” he said softly. “We’re almost there now. I want you girls to be very quiet. I told Mrs. Hummingbird I’d come and tell her before I brought you all up to the door. She’s a very private person, and she’s not used to company. This is a very big deal for her. Do you understand?”
“We get it,” said Sydney.
Billy John led them up the path, just a bit further through the trees and bushes. Then they saw it—a small log cabin that looked somewhat like the one at Indian Village. The roof was constructed from hardwood shingles and, over time, moss had grown over them. As a result, the cabin blended with the woods. The walls were made solidly from logs and an earthy kind of plaster between them.
Like the cabin at Indian Village, this one had no windows. A stone chimney was built against one outer wall. A thin ribbon of curling smoke escaped from its top and disappeared into the gray clouds above. The smell of burning wood wafted through the trees. A shabby porch stretched across the cabin’s front, and an old, wooden rocking chair was set next to the door. The door was slightly ajar.
A gentle rain had started to fall. The girls could hear it splattering against the leaves on the trees where they stood, but the leaves were so thick the raindrops were stopped from falling onto the woodland floor.
From inside the cabin came the sound of someone singing.
