The Carter Journals

by Shane Phipps

  Whole Indian nations have melted away like snowballs in the sun before the white man’s advance. They leave scarcely a name of our people.… Where are the Delawares? They have been reduced to a mere shadow of their former greatness. We had hoped that the white men would not be willing to travel beyond the mountains. Now that hope is gone. They have passed the mountains, and have settled upon Cherokee land. They wish to have that action sanctioned by treaty. When that is gained, the same encroaching spirit will lead them upon other land of the Cherokees. The Cherokees will be asked again to give up land. Finally the whole country, which the Cherokees and their fathers have so long occupied, will be demanded, and the remains of Ani-Yunwiya, THE REAL PEOPLE, once so great and formidable, will be compelled to seek refuge in some distant wilderness. There they will be permitted to stay only a short while, until they again see the advancing flags of the same greedy men.… The extinction of the whole race will be proclaimed. Should we not therefore run all risks, and endure all consequences, rather than submit to further loss of our country? Such treaties may be alright for men who are too old to hunt or fight. As for me, I have my young warriors around me. We will have our lands. A-WANINSKI, I have spoken.

  If the hairs had not been standing up on the back of Cody’s neck before, they surely were now. Dragging Canoe’s chilling and prophetic speech resonated all around the assembled crowd. In the end, however, it did nothing to prevent the inevitable deal from taking place. The Treaty of Sycamore Shoals was signed, and Henderson had his land. All that was left for him to do now was to open it up for settlement and to form his new colony called Transylvania.

  In the Watauga Purchase, signed at the treaty council at Sycamore Shoals, the Cherokee nation agreed to sell territory on the Watauga and Holston Rivers in what is now northeastern Tennessee. (Tennessee State Library and Archives)

  As Cody stood there taking in this historic scene, he was once again startled by John Carter. “Well, I guess that is that. We’ll see if this holds up, but between you and me, son, I have my doubts.”

  “What kind of doubts? What do you mean?” Cody asked.

  “Doubts about whether this whole transaction is even legal,” answered John. “A lot of folks are whispering that Henderson is trying to rush this deal through and doesn’t really have the power to do it. Some of the Cherokee are even snickering about this deal, saying they don’t even claim ownership of the land they sold. They don’t live in those lands, no Indians do, for the most part. It goes against their beliefs to live in that land. It is sacred land to them—land that they set apart only to hunt in. That land is shared by these Cherokee and the Shawnee, who come down from the north to hunt there. There is a very good chance that this deal will not be allowed to happen by the governments of North Carolina, Virginia, or Britain. It all seems a little shady to me. But then again, we here in the Watauga Settlements are standing on shaky legal footing as it is. We really aren’t supposed to be here, according to the King’s Proclamation of 1763.”

  Cody hadn’t been familiar with the story of the Treaty of Sycamore Shoals or the Transylvania Colony, but he knew all about the Proclamation of 1763. He remembered that it was a law placed on the colonies that made settlement west of the Appalachian Mountains illegal. As he recalled, this law was not popular with the American colonists. In fact, it was one of the first major wedges that separated the colonies and their mother country. Now Cody could see what Carter was saying. Everyone living west of the Appalachians in 1775 was technically breaking the law. That, coupled with some other aspects of the law that addressed who could make treaties with the natives and who actually had the rightful claim to the land being purchased made Henderson’s treaty a questionable one at best.

  “Still,” continued Carter, “I don’t see a man like Richard Henderson letting anything stand in his way. I look for him to push right on with his plans to start this new colony whether it’s legal or not. He has already hired Daniel Boone to open up the trail for settlement. Boone is going to be leaving from here and will start widening the trail through the Cumberland Gap. He is already gathering the first group of investors to go with him. I hear he has around thirty lined up to go right away. I don’t see how this can possibly work out, but with a man like Richard Henderson in charge, well, it just might not be wise to bet against him.”

  As Cody considered John’s words, he began to feel a swimming sensation in his head. Just as everything began to go dark, he found himself back in his bedroom.

  Chapter 7

  Cody sat at his desk staring down at the words of Landon Carter. He was still trying to comprehend the fact that he had just been in the presence of more than a thousand Cherokee. Cody sensed the image would be burned into his brain as long as he lived. He realized that no living person had ever gotten to be an eyewitness to something like he had just seen—a treaty council. He was once again learning things he had never known from his history classes. He had never heard of a colony called Transylvania. The only Transylvania Cody ever remembered hearing about was where Dracula came from, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t near Kentucky!

  Cody glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed and saw that it was still early in the evening. He felt like going right back to his reading, but he heard his father in the living room downstairs. One question had puzzled Cody ever since his grandfather had returned to Tennessee: Why had Grandpa brought the journals to him and not his father? Hadn’t his father kept a journal? If not, why? Cody finally decided he would ask his dad about this, so he went downstairs.

  “Hey, Dad,” said Cody. “Do you have a second?” Many times Cody’s dad didn’t have a second. As a pharmaceutical sales representative for the Eli Lilly Company, Mark Carter provided a good living for his family but was often on the road for days on end. He was a good and caring father but was not always around when Cody wanted him to be. For this reason, sometimes Cody found it awkward to approach his dad with serious questions, so he usually saved those for his mother.

  “Sure, Cody. What’s on your mind?” replied Cody’s father.

  “It’s just a question I have been meaning to ask you about my journals,” said Cody. “You know, the ones Grandpa brought me to read.” As he mentioned the journals, Cody sensed his father stiffen a bit.

  “What about them, son?” his father replied.

  “Well, it’s what Grandpa said about the Carter family tradition,” Cody answered. “He said that Carters started journaling in their teens and then got to read the stories of all the Carter teens before them. I was just wondering why it is that with you and me, the tradition seemed to skip a generation. Didn’t you want to take part in the tradition, Dad?”

  Cody’s father paused for so long before speaking that Cody grew uncomfortable. “I was wondering if you were going to ask me about this,” his father said carefully. “Actually, I did start to do the journaling thing. My dad gave me a box of journals when I was about your age, and I started reading like you—but I couldn’t take it.”

  Cody felt a chill run up his spine. His father must have had some similar experiences of being transported into the lives of their ancestors when he read the journals.

  His father continued. “Cody, when you read those journals, does anything—funny—happen to you?”

  There it is, Cody thought. His suspicions had been correct. He was relieved to learn that he was not the only person who had experienced such strange happenings while reading the journals, but also felt curious as to why his dad seemed to feel so negatively about his own experiences.

  “Yes,” replied Cody. “It happens every time. I start to read and the next thing I know, I am living the words. I am inside the body of the person who wrote the journal. It is so freaky. Is that what happened to you too, Dad?”

  “Well, it certainly sounds like it,” his father replied, “but I only opened one journal and only read one time.” He paused. He seemed to be measuring his words again, and perhaps censoring some of them. “Do you enjoy reading the journals?�
�

  “Yes, I think it’s awesome!” Cody replied excitedly. “I have been scared a few times, but you wouldn’t believe what I have experienced. I got to kill a deer—an eight-point buck! I got to meet Daniel Boone—the real Daniel Boone—he was my friend! We went on a hunting trip through the Blue Ridge Mountains. I even met him again twenty-some years later—and we were in a crowd of about a thousand Cherokee!”

  His father cut him short, bringing Cody’s mood down a few notches. “Indians? Son, I am not trying to scare you or discourage you, but I just have to warn you—you might want to think about what you could be getting into. I’m not trying to tell you that you are in any sort of physical danger; lots of Carters have read every word of those journals and have come out ok. Your grandpa is one of them. I am just saying that they may not be for everyone—emotionally speaking.”

  “Are you trying to say why you didn’t read any more than you did, Dad?” Cody asked.

  “You mentioned seeing Indians,” his father replied. “Have you had any encounters that seemed dangerous?”

  “Well,” Cody answered, “I was pretty nervous being in a big crowd, but I don’t think I would call it dangerous. Why do you ask?” His father’s cryptic question had increased Cody’s nervousness.

  “When I went into the journal that one time,” his father said, “I was around them, too. I can’t even remember the name of the journal, it has been so long ago, but it was in the Indiana Territory. I have forgotten some of the details, but I will just tell you that I had some experiences that I have tried to forget ever since. I came out okay, but I am just telling you to be careful in making your decisions. Maybe you could experience what I did and be fine with it, but I wouldn’t do it again—in fact, I stopped right there and never went back.”

  Cody could sense that his dad was not telling him any details for a reason. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he shouldn’t press for more information. “I have had some emotional experiences, but nothing too bad, yet,” he said.

  “I am not trying to scare you, just prepare you,” stated his father. “There might be some things that are tough to go through in those journals. I am not trying to tell you what to do or what not to do. That is up to you. Just know that it might not all be pleasant.”

  Cody already had experienced enough in the journals to have some understanding of what his father was trying to tell him. He had been through some emotional highs and lows. But he wondered what had so rattled his dad. It was just one more thing to think about as he continued on his very strange journey through the Carter journals.

  Cody said goodnight to his dad and headed back to his room. He decided to read some more of the Landon Carter journal before turning in for the night. Sitting down with the journal, he turned the page and began to read…

  July, 1776 Exciting but troubled times—Word has reached us of a Declaration of Independence being issued by the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. Apparently, the trouble with Britain has reached a point of no return. The war that started in Massachusetts last year is apparently not to be avoided. We have declared ourselves to be an independent nation—the United States of America. Most of us here in the Washington District consider ourselves staunch patriots, though many of us have acquaintances and loved ones whose loyalties remain with the Crown. Though we have remained far from the battles between the British and American armies, we are no less concerned. Our trouble is expected to come in the form of Indians....

  Independence Hall in Philadelphia as it appeared in 1776. The Declaration of Independence was adopted here on July 4, 1776. (University of Pennsylvania Archives)

  As Cody read these words, he began to feel himself being pulled back into the journal. This time he found himself within the walls of Fort Watauga in one of several small cabins along the interior of the palisade wall. Inside the cabin were John Carter and several other men that Cody did not recognize, one of whom was evidently in the middle of delivering some sobering news, based on the men’s grim expressions. John must have noticed Cody’s confusion. He leaned over and, nodding toward the man who was speaking, whispered, “John Sevier has just returned from settlements along the Nolichucky River, where the new fort is under construction. The Cherokee woman Nanye-hi, also called Nancy Ward, came to warn the settlers that her cousin Dragging Canoe was going to lead an attack. The British have supplied him with guns and ammunition. Nanye-hi is a Beloved Woman, a peacemaker in tribal councils, and unlike her cousin, she believes the whites and Indians can coexist peaceably.”

  “The settlements of the Nolichucky are preparing to evacuate,” Sevier was now saying. “The fort is not nearly finished enough to be a safe haven. Most of the Fort Lee settlers will be headed up here to join us at Fort Watauga. Eaton’s Station is bracing for trouble, too. They are a little better fortified than Fort Lee. Hopefully, they will be able to fight off any attacks. Be prepared to make some room. Things could get a little crowded around this place, and soon.”

  John Sevier (1745–1815) was a leader of the Sycamore Shoals settlements and participated in the Battle of Kings Mountain. He became the governor of the state of Franklin and later the first governor of Tennessee. (Tennessee State Library and Archives)

  Some days seemed to pass as scores of settlers fleeing from the Fort Lee area came to the Watauga to join forces. The little fort was soon home to more than 150 settlers along with a garrison of some seventy-five militia. As the Commissioner of Safety for the Watauga settlements, John Carter was in charge of the militia.

  As predicted, a war party, led by Dragging Canoe, soon began to launch attacks on the settlements, beginning with Fort Lee. Fort Lee and the surrounding farms were abandoned when the attacks began. The party burned down the unfinished fort and destroyed many of the farms. They had begun to work their way toward Eaton’s Station when word reached Fort Watauga of their movements.

  At Fort Watauga, settlers tried to make the best of the cramped conditions. Many cows, goats, and pigs brought along with the Fort Lee settlers joined the herds of the Wataugans, grazing outside the walls of the fort. Part of the daily regimen of the settlers, particularly the women, was to venture out and gather in their cattle twice a day for milking. Armed sentries were always posted in the watchtowers before anyone went outside the fort.

  Early one morning, Cody was milling around talking with some of the newcomers from Fort Lee when he heard a clattering outside the gates. Two armed riders dismounted from their exhausted horses and were let inside. The men had come at full gallop from the direction of Eaton’s Station. They were obviously dirty, disheveled, and very worked up. They were wearing the mismatched garb of local militia. As their horses were led away to the watering trough near the center of the fort’s courtyard, one of the men stepped forward and asked to talk to John Carter.

  “That’s my father. I will go and get him,” Cody said.

  Cody sprinted toward the little cabin where the Carters lived inside the fort. He ran inside and said, “Father, there are some men outside to see you. They came from Eaton’s Station—they say it’s urgent.”

  “Send them in,” said John.

  Cody quickly returned with the two spent-looking soldiers, and John motioned for them and his son to join him around the table.

  “What is all this about?” asked John.

  “Sir, I’m Corporal Donner and this here is Private Logan,” said the soldier, nodding to his companion. “We come to tell you there has been an attempted attack on Eaton’s Station by Dragging Canoe and some of his warriors. We were plumb lucky to find out they were comin’ before they got all the way to us. We were able to get us up a platoon and went out to meet ’em before they could get to the settlements. We opened up on ’em and had a right smart battle. By our count we killed thirteen of them savages—at least that’s how many scalps we collected—and we wounded more than that. Logan here put a bullet in ol’ Dragging Canoe himself. Didn’t hit him good enough to kill ’im though, but he’ll know he’s been in a scrap, that’
s fer sure!”

  Cody was slightly stunned by what he had just heard. Did Donner really just say that they had collected the scalps of the dead? He knew that various tribes practiced the grisly art of scalping their victims. It was a sort of trophy to them—proof of their kills. He remembered hearing Edward Carter Sr.’s gut-wrenching account of having nearly witnessed the scalping of his father during the Tuscarora Wars. Cody had always been under the impression that the natives scalped whites, not the other way around, but apparently, this practice must have gone both ways.

  “Where are the Indians now?” asked John.

  “We ran ’em off, but they’ll be back. I look fer ’em to head this way next. I’m sure ol’ Dragging Canoe will organize more of his men, and he’ll probably get help from some other chiefs around here. We were sent here to warn you to be lookin’ fer ’em.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” replied John. “We most certainly will keep a sharp eye out. You two look like you could use a hot meal and a good night’s rest. I am sure your horses could use the rest, as well. Why don’t you join us here tonight, and you can go back tomorrow and take a better survey on any damage done. We don’t have much in the way of extra room, but we will be glad to spare you any we can.”

  As John stood to begin arrangements to shelter the two men, Cody felt himself being pulled out of the journal. When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in his bedroom.

  Chapter 8

  Cody looked at the clock on his nightstand and was surprised to see it read eleven o’clock. He didn’t feel the least bit tired. He had too many thoughts racing through his head to sleep. He thought back upon what his dad had said earlier. His dad may not have been the Daniel Boone type, but Cody had never known him to be wimpy in any way. Whatever he had experienced in his one trip into the journals must have shaken him up pretty badly. All Cody really knew was that his dad’s experience had taken place in the Indiana Territory and that it involved Native Americans. Cody was beginning to think that Landon Carter was about to have a run-in with the natives, but not in the Indiana Territory. As he sat and mulled over his options, Cody finally decided that he had come too far to turn back now. He was going to see this thing through, or try his best to, at least. He decided to take one more look at the Landon Carter journal before trying to sleep. He found his place and began to read.…