“I just don’t understand how the United States government could do something like that,” Allyson’s voice was full of empathy.
“Well, it was a weird sequence of events,” Joe sighed. “Ten years before the Cherokee were relocated, the Creek Indians were taken from their lands when one of their acknowledged leaders, Chief McIntosh, signed the Treaty of Indian Springs. All the U.S. government needed to move the Creek was that signature. Less than a year later, McIntosh was found dead, stabbed by one of his own people.
“By 1832, there was a division among the Cherokee. John Ross held sway over the majority, but there was a small contingent of about five hundred Indians that supported three other leaders: Major Ridge, his son, John, and Elias Boudinot. These three men met with Congress behind the backs of John Ross and the rest of the Cherokee nation and signed the Removal Act as representatives of the tribe. That was all Andrew Jackson and the feds needed. Daniel Webster and Henry Clay, two notable figures in history, pleaded that the act not be ratified. It happened, nonetheless, and Gen. John Wool was ordered to invade the Cherokee lands. Wool was a good man and knew to do such a thing was morally unjust. He refused and resigned his post. So, replacement Gen. Winfield Scott went in with seven thousand troops and did the job.
“Almost a third of the Cherokee, including John Ross’s wife, died on the way to Oklahoma in the bitter winter of 1838-1839.” Joe gave a grim chuckle, “Ironically, the three men who signed the Echota Treaty allowing for the relocation were later murdered the same way McIntosh was by the Creek ten years prior.”
Allyson looked perplexed. “Why did the Indians need to be moved in the first place?”
Leaning back, he crossed his legs and folded his hands. “Excellent question. The Cherokee had, essentially, become a part of society in the United States. They lived in homes designed like the whites, dressed in the modern European styles, and ran a system of government much like a democracy. The Cherokee were a civilized part of America. But the white settlers had discovered something for which conquistadors and explorers had searched for centuries.”
“Gold,” Sean realized aloud.
“You got it. A vein of the stuff was found down in what is now Dahlonega, ‘bout an hour from here. Once that was discovered, the young government needed no other reason. Of course, they claimed that the area was overcrowded to justify their actions, but the plain truth of it was that those innocent people were brutally murdered and herded out of their homes like animals so that the search for more gold could continue.”
“And once the Dahlonega mines had been found, the probability of the El Dorado legend became much more viable,” Sean rationalized.
“Bingo,” he replied, spreading his arms out across the back of the couch. “And there is one more piece to this legend that you should know about.
“When my dad was just a boy, he and a few friends were playing in the woods forty-five minutes northeast of here, about ten miles from the Vann house. They were running around in the hills when suddenly, they happened upon a cave. Boys never really have a good sense of fear, so the three of them decided to go inside and take a look around. What they discovered was astounding. The cavern wasn’t natural; it had been carved out of the rock by human hands. Within the giant chamber, a large stone table sat in the center. As the boys’ eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could see carvings in the stone that encircled the room on the wall just below the ceiling.”
Mystified, Allyson asked, “What did the carvings say?”
“Well, the boys ran back into town and told their parents about what they had found. The kids took their families back to the cave to show them the strange site. A few experts were brought in to investigate, including an old Cherokee man who had returned to the area decades before. He was brought in to see if he could interpret the writing on the stone.
“As the old man read the inscription, his eyes grew wide, and his face took on a troubled look. He urged the families to leave the premises quickly and claimed they were all in great danger. After exiting the cave, the group stood around outside the entrance, uncertain what was going on. My grandfather was there along with my dad. Grandpappy asked the old Indian what the carvings meant and what the danger was.
“The Indian’s reply was grim, ‘It says the white man will never take our gold, and for those who try, death awaits.’”
“What does that mean?” Sean interrupted the story. “What was going to kill them?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that old Indian was scared out of his wits. Musta been something pretty bad.”
“So what did everyone do?” Allyson rejoined the conversation.
“Well, Allyson, they went back to their homes and started making phone calls. Many of the locals wanted to excavate the site and bring in archaeologists to study the room. The funny thing is the whole area was fenced off about a week later by the government. Even stranger than that, the following year, a dam was built nearby, and the land was flooded. That cave is somewhere at the bottom of what is called Carter’s Lake now. ”
“What happened to the Indian translator? Did he stick around long?” Sean asked.
“He died a few months later; I think they said it was a heart attack or something like that. Can’t remember. It’s a little odd, but the guy was old, so it was bound to happen at some point, I suppose.”
Silence fell on the room as the facts and the strange sequence of events settled in. Suddenly, the telephone rang in the kitchen, disrupting the moment and startling all three of them. “I should get that. It’s probably Evelyn. She went to her mother’s tonight. I’ll be right back. Ya’ll need anything else?”
“No, we’re good, Mac,” Sean answered for the both of them as his friend jumped up and took off toward the kitchen.
In the other room, they heard him answer the phone, “Hey, honey.” Then his voice trailed off in a discussion about her staying at her mother’s for the night.
Sean turned to Allyson as he lounged farther into the soft material of the sofa, “What do you think?”
“The whole story is fascinating. It’s a lot to digest.” She looked thoughtfully into her empty cup.
He couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment; then, as her head lifted slightly, he caught himself and averted his eyes.
“Yeah, I just hope Joe can help us find Tommy.” He picked up the conversation again.
“All right, what were you saying about me? I know I just heard my name.” Their host returned to the living room with a smile on his face. Sean was glad his friend had come back in time to end the awkward moment.
Allyson smiled. “Sean was just saying that if anyone could help us find Tommy, it would be you.”
His face took on a serious expression. “We’ll find him, buddy, and whoever is behind all of this.” He gave his friend a sincere nod.
Another thoughtful moment went by before Allyson spoke up again. “So what happened to Joseph Vann and his family when the Cherokee were moved to Oklahoma?”
“Glad you remembered.” Joe collapsed back into his spot on the couch. “Vann and his family relocated to Oklahoma and picked up right where they left off. Of course, losing all of their land in Georgia hurt, but it needs to be noted that the forced move did not hurt the Vanns nearly as much as the rest of the Cherokee population. The family prospered in Oklahoma almost as much as it had in Georgia.”
“How is that possible? Was Joseph just a better businessman than the rest of his fellow tribesmen?” Sean was interested.
“Possibly. There isn’t anything concrete, but there is an interesting end to the Vann story. A hundred and twenty years later, in 1958, the Vann house was turned into a state historic site.
“A year or so after that, four dark-skinned men walked into the old manor one day. The park’s curator offered to give them a tour, but they said nothing. They simply walked by and went directly to the fireplace. The park ranger watched as the men knelt down and started removing some of the bricks from the back of the chimne
y. Mesmerized, he stared as the strangers reached into a secret compartment and began removing gold bars from the hole.”
“Gold bars like the ones at the waterfall?” Allyson could barely contain her curiosity.
“Exactly the same, and with similar carvings on them as well. We can only assume that the symbols the state worker saw as the men walked out were identical to the ones that were discovered in the waterfall cave.”
Sean piped in, “So you think that the Vanns had some of that gold when they left?”
“It would certainly make sense as to how they were able to keep up the type of lifestyle to which they had become accustomed.”
Allyson wasn’t sure. “If the Vanns did have a bunch of Cherokee gold, how did they transport it to Oklahoma without it being seized by the army?”
“You really must be a great journalist, Ms. Webster, to ask all the right questions like that.” Joe gave her a quick wink, causing her to blush momentarily.
“To answer, yes, transporting any amount of gold would have been a difficult task not only from the point of keeping its existence unknown to the army, but also from a logistical front. They had few wagons and were certainly under constant supervision from the soldiers who were escorting them west.”
“Well, how’d they do it then?” She was on the edge of her seat.
“I think most of the gold remained right here in the state of Georgia, hidden in a secret location. Only a select few would be able to interpret all of the clues that would lead to the larger deposits. That being said, the Cherokee still must have taken quite a bit of the loot with them as they went west.”
“Yeah.” She was becoming impatient, so she asked the question again. “So, how did they move so much gold without getting caught?”
McElroy scooped up the empty coffee cups and started to make his way to the kitchen with them. “Tell me something, you two. How much do you know about Mormons?”
Chapter 24
Georgia Mountains
Tommy sat defiantly at the breakfast table, arms crossed. His two guards stood on either side of him, anxious and uncertain. It had been about thirty minutes since the bigger guard had called Ulrich and requested that he return to the mansion immediately. After being dragged inside, Tommy had refused to do anything else except for pulling up a website about lost worlds. Once that was done, he simply sat there until they had telephoned their boss.
“You better not be toying with us,” the smaller guard remarked in his almost unintelligible accent.
Tommy replied with a sarcastic smile, which only seemed to anger the man even more.
Sounds of dogs barking came suddenly from somewhere else in the building. A few moments later, the tall blond man burst through the door, dressed in an expensive-looking suit like he had just stepped out of the pages of GQ. “Jeez, man!” Tommy laughed, “You just come from a wedding or something? Kinda late to be dressed like that, isn’t it?”
Ignoring the question, Ulrich strode purposefully toward the table. He stopped a few feet away, produced a black handgun from his pocket, and pointed it at the insolent prisoner. “Why are you not working?”
Having a gun pointed at him seemed less unsettling every time it happened. Apparently, Tommy was getting used to it. “Put that thing away, man. Last thing you need right now is to accidentally shoot the guy who just figured out where the next clue is.” His demeanor remained cool as Ulrich’s icy-blue eyes searched him for the truth.
Ulrich didn’t lower the weapon. “If you are lying to me in the hope that someone is going to come to your rescue, you will be sorely disappointed.”
Unwavering, Tommy unfolded his arms and spun the laptop around so that the screen faced the man with the gun. “Track Rock near Brasstown Bald,” he said triumphantly.
He lowered the gun slightly as he glared at the computer screen that displayed photos of some large boulders, each one riddled with odd symbols and shapes painted on them. The giant stones were surrounded by crude, steel cages. Eyebrows furrowed, Ulrich inquired, “What am I looking at?” His voice had grown slightly less menacing.
“What you are looking at is a place called Track Rock.” Tommy repeated the name then added, “It’s the only spot that makes sense.”
“You are certain?” The gun lowered a little more, though the killer was still alert.
“Dude, I’m sure.”
“How are you so positive this is the right place?”
“Okay, let me explain it to you,” Tommy said in an exasperated voice. “First of all, I’ve been sitting here all night with the Cosmonaut twins searching every friggin’ possible place in the world.” The two Russians turned their heads giving each other a confused shrug. “Secondly, you have to understand the context of the riddle.”
“Tell me,” Ulrich said as he came around the edge of the table, leaning in closer to the monitor. The gun was now hanging unthreateningly at his side.
Tommy was a little put off by the man’s lack of awareness of personal space, but he went on nonetheless. “The riddle says that the stones will mark your path and that of the chariots of Heaven, right?”
A quick nod was all he received.
“Right...So, we went outside for a minute,” Ulrich’s head turned quickly to the guards, eyes flashing in anger. The two subordinates didn’t offer an excuse. They just stood there trying to look professional.
“Take it easy,” Tommy came to their defense. “I was getting sleepy, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I just asked them if they would take me outside for some fresh air for a minute. They were both with me the entire time.”
His explanation seemed to be satisfactory, and Ulrich’s attention came back to the matter at hand. Tommy began again, “So we were outside when I saw a shooting star. That’s when I realized the answer.”
“A shooting star?” Ulrich sounded unsure.
“Yeah, a shooting star. You know, a meteor? Streak of light that goes across the sky?”
A nod again told Tommy that the guy knew what he was talking about. “Anyway, that’s when I realized what the riddle meant by chariots of the heavens. The real meaning behind that phrase comes from many different pagan mythologies. Chariots were considered to be not only a powerful weapon, but an honorable mode of transportation. Kings and generals used them not only for ease of movement, but as symbols of their greatness. In many ancient cultures, it was considered an honor to be in the chariot corps of a royal army. So, it was only natural that the religious leaders of the time wanted their gods to look both powerful and yet relate them to a high human position. Imagine if you were a child growing up in ancient Egypt and you saw a shooting star flash through the sky. Every single child was probably told that it was one of their gods on his chariot, coming to aide a human on Earth. It was a better story than Santa Claus.”
“Interesting, Thomas. But what does any of this have to do with the place you are showing me on the computer?
“It has everything to do with it.” He pointed to the screen with an open hand. “Brasstown is the only place on the continent that even comes close to having anything remotely similar to what is described in the riddle.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it’s the only location in this part of the world that has large stones with what many historians believe to be a significant celestial event recorded on them.” He threw up his hands.
His hand moved back to the computer screen in an effort to describe the picture the man was seeing. “These symbols right here are constellations. But the other stuff that appears all over the rock face, those are some kind of anomaly. The only explanation would be some kind of occurrence such as a meteor shower. Seems like the early settlers in the land felt the need to document whatever it was that happened.”
“Where is this place, this Brasstown?”
“It’s a little over an hour northeast of here, up in the Blue Ridge Mountains.”
Ulrich seemed to contemplate what Tommy had presented. Schultz was a renowned hi
storian of ancient cultures. Surely, he had found the answer to the riddle. Still, something made him hesitate. “What about the birds in the riddle, the raven and the dove? Do you have an explanation for that?”
For a moment, Tommy thought about making up some kind of story with the birds, but he decided to go with the truth for now. “Honestly, no. Best I can figure is that the raven and the dove are a separate part of the puzzle.”
“Separate?” It was a good sign that his captor wasn’t too upset by the lack of an answer.
“Yeah. You see, throughout history, most riddles, maps, clues, whatever you want to call them, have all had one thing in common: duality. At least, every single thing like this that I have ever come across has had that feature. There is either more than one meaning to a riddle, or it is two separate mysteries combined into one.”
“So what do you suggest we do?”
Finally, a little respect. “I say we go up to Brasstown and check out the site. My guess is, whatever is there will point us in the right direction.”
Ulrich sat, considering what to do for a minute. “Get the truck ready,” he finally said to the shorter guard.
The man nodded and quickly exited the room.
“I hope, Thomas, that you are correct.” He raised the gun back up until the cold, black barrel was pressed firmly against Tommy’s temple. “Because if you are trying anything funny, you know what I will do.”
Chapter 25
Cartersville, Georgia
“Mormons?” Sean blurted out. “What do they have to do with this?”
Joe’s head turned from side to side as Allyson continued Sean’s line of thinking, “Yeah. Are you talking about the Latter-day Saints...those Mormons?”
“The very same.”
Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set Page 12
