“It sure looks that way. I would imagine if we take a closer look, the other symbols will also have some kind of significant representation of the ancient Cherokee cultures.”
The two men quickly moved back over to the computer station with Allyson in tow. Joe took control of the mouse and began moving some of the pictures around. He moved the pointer arrow over one of the claws in one image. “Okay, we have a claw that looks a lot like the one in the picture.”
He continued as he positioned the arrow around another picture. “Here we have a bear paw. That would probably indicate a scout or tracker group. And here,” his hand moved the mouse again, “we have a bird with its feathers spread out, probably the religious order of the area.”
Symbol by symbol, the two analyzed each figure until most of them had been appointed to a Native caste. When finished, they gave each other a look of satisfaction.
“Not bad, Mac. Not too bad.” Sean slapped his friend on the back.
Smiling, Joe responded, “Yeah, but that’s only half of the puzzle. None of it makes sense unless we know where all of these people lived. We identified who dwelled there, but this settlement could, literally, be anywhere.”
The mood that had, for a moment, been upbeat turned sour again.
Again, silence took over the group as they stared at the screen, understanding part of what they were looking at, but not enough to know where to go next.
Allyson broke the hush after a few minutes of thought. Her arm extended out as she pointed at something on the screen. “What does that symbol mean?”
Sean and Joe looked as her finger indicated a drawing that looked like a circle within a circle on one of the rocks.
“The two circles?” she clarified. “What did they use that for?”
The two men looked at each other, uncertain. It was one of the few things left on the screen that they could not decipher.
“Because,” she went on, “to me it looks like something you would see on a map, like a city marker, or maybe even a state capital. Did the Indians use anything like that back then?”
Both guys stared at the screen in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” they said in tandem.
“Of course,” Joe said exuberantly. “All this time it was right here in front of us. I can’t believe we missed that.”
Sean’s face also lit up. He grabbed the mouse and started moving some of the photos around.
Allyson was lost again. “Hello? Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Pretty sure you figured out the solution,” Joe answered with a grin.
“I did?”
“Yeah,” Sean added, moving the picture of the double circle to the middle of the screen. “The answer was so simple all along. I don’t know how so many people could have missed it for such a long time.”
“Missed what?” She was becoming irritated.
“The capital of the Cherokee Nation,” Joe finally gave her an answer.
“The Cherokee Nation?”
“Mmm hmm,” Sean hummed, as he arranged some of the pictures around the centerpiece. “The Cherokee Nation’s capital was located in a place called Red Clay. It was considered a sacred land and was the site where their government council met to decide important issues.”
Allyson raised an eyebrow. “Government council? You mean, like a democracy? I thought their chiefs made the decisions.”
“Of course, they did. But they acted more like our president when it came to the manner in which their government operated.” Sean stopped moving around the pictures. Waving a finger at the screen, he went on. “The capital was the center of their society. Around it were located the homes and workplaces of the citizens. Their organizational methods were simple but very effective. I’m not certain about the order or the exact places where their castes were located, but usually, the religious and political leaders of the tribe were located closest to the center. Then, it appears that they spiraled out, working through the community of medicine men, warriors, farmers, hunters, etc.”
“So this is the place that we are going next?”
Looking at each other, the two men responded with a nod.
“It would seem so,” Sean replied.
“And what are we looking for when we get there?”
A look of concern crept back onto the thirtysomething-year-old face. “I have no idea. We’ll try to figure that out when we get there.”
She looked at Joe, but he responded with a questioning shrug, arms flung out to his sides.
“So we’re going to drive to this place and hope that the next clue will just jump out at us?”
“We don’t really have a choice,” Sean affirmed. Then he added, “But it seems to be working so far.” His boyish smile was contagious. “Of course, you don’t have to go with us...”
She gave them both a chastising look, “Are you freakin’ kidding me? Sorry, boys, but, like I said at Joe’s place, you’re stuck with me.”
“No use in trying to get rid of her at this point, Sean.” Joe shrugged again.
He knew his friend was right. And, after all, she had actually been helpful a couple of times so far. Inside, though, old feelings crept into his mind. Over the past few days, he had found himself glancing at her when she wasn’t looking. There was certainly an attraction there, but he kept reminding himself not to allow such thoughts. Those kinds of things were what got his heart ripped out so many years before. For a moment, he forgot he was standing in the library of a small mountain town in Georgia, and he was suddenly back in college, lying on the grass near the promenade of his university. Laughter filled his ears as visions of someone he’d not seen in a long time scorched his mind’s eye.
“Sean?” Joe interrupted the flashback. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Just trying to piece things together.”
“We should probably get going. Red Clay’s another hour from here at least. We’ll need to get there to see what they have in the museum, maybe talk to the ranger there to see if they can give us any information that might help.”
Sean nodded, agreeing to the plan. He detached the camera from the computer and returned the borrowed cord to the pleasant lady behind the desk. “Thanks again for your help,” he offered as they walked through the metal detectors.
The librarian simply smiled as she wound the cable back to its original circle shape. “You’re very welcome.”
As the three made their way back out the large doors and down the steps of the brick building, Sean spoke up. “Allyson, you never said why Axis was so interested in all of this.”
“That’s right,” her face was stoic. “I didn’t.”
She didn’t offer anything else as she climbed into the front seat of the truck.
All he could do was shake his head with a smirk while he walked around to the back door.
Chapter 42
Southeastern Tennessee/Northwest Georgia
It had only taken the black Hummer fifty minutes to make the drive through the rolling hills and farms to Red Clay State Park. The ancient Native grounds were located in a very rural area near the Georgia-Tennessee border. Replicas of one-room log cabins, barns, and meeting halls dotted the meadows surrounded by the sacred woods.
Tommy had barely noticed the incredible display of fall colors during the journey. His mind had been busy considering when his luck would turn on him. So far, things had gone his way. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of doom though. It was encouraging that Sean was on the trail, but how would Sean know how to decipher the code on the boulders?
Ulrich guided the giant SUV into an empty place right outside of the park’s museum. Two other cars sat idly by to the right. The museum was designed to keep with the country-rustic aesthetic of the area. Wooden beams angled up from exterior trusses, and brown paint covered the natural paint siding of the entire building. It was capped with a cedar-shingled roof. A large deck was situated on the entire front of the building and wrapped around the right side. On the lengthy porch, old-fas
hioned rocking chairs silently rested, unoccupied.
Crows loudly bellowed from some high branches overhanging a picnic area while four college-aged kids were carelessly throwing a Frisbee in a field nearby. The crisp air was filled with the aroma from a tall stand of pine trees behind the museum.
“What now?” Ulrich inquired as the four men simultaneously set foot on the ground, exiting the vehicle.
Tommy nodded his head in the direction of the museum. “I guess we should check in there. They will have a bunch of information about the area. Maybe we’ll find something.”
The group casually walked up the front steps toward the building. Upon entering, they were greeted with what Tommy considered to be a pleasantly familiar smell. Museums of differing types always seemed to have a similar odor. It was only natural for Schultz to associate the scent he was now inhaling with the vision of ancient relics, pottery, weapons, or ordinary daily devices and utensils that people thousands of years ago would have taken for granted.
Behind the welcome desk, a man with reddish-tan skin and long black hair stood in a tan, short-sleeve, button-up shirt and green park ranger pants. He was busily typing on a computer that sat on top of the information counter. The nametag on his shirt read, Cooper. His job must have got boring.
Tommy figured the ranger could complete a round of solitaire in record time by now. The guy was probably not used to visitors during the week that were not part of a school group or some kind of educational tour.
“Can I help you?” the man asked as he stopped whatever he was doing and turned his attention to the four men, smiling with bright-white teeth.
Jens gave Tommy a nudge forward. Clearing his throat, Schultz tried not to act like a hostage. “Yes,” he began, “I was just showing some of my friends around the area. They’re not from around here,” he continued, pointing at the other three who looked at each other, seeming confused. “I thought it would be cool to show them a little bit about some of the local history.”
The dark-skinned ranger looked pleased. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Feel free to take a look around our museum, just through those doors there. You can find all kinds of information about our rich past as well as many artifacts that have been discovered through the years right here on the property.” Then he added, “If you would like, we have a twenty-minute video that will be showing in a few minutes.”
Why would they have a movie at set times if there was no one there to watch it? Tommy didn’t ask the question. The guy was obviously eager to share information with someone who didn’t arrive on a yellow bus.
“Thanks. We’ll just take a look around for a few minutes and maybe walk through the park.”
“All right. Just let me know if you need anything or have any questions.” Satisfied he’d done his job, the ranger went back to whatever he was previously doing on the computer.
Tommy nodded in appreciation and led the two flattops and Ulrich through the large double doors into a small museum area. Once inside, they were greeted by six-foot-high placards with pictures of Native Americans in full headdress. Smaller pictures with name plates and brief descriptions dotted the walls. Frames displaying Indians playing an ancient form of lacrosse were paired with some actual balls and sticks that had been used hundreds of years ago.
The museum was more like a large single room that had been divided by an artificial wall. Maybe the park thought it would seem bigger if it were split into two areas instead of just one. Display cases were propped around on the floor, showing a variety of old artifacts. Eating utensils, scissors, small bowls, sewing needles, and several other items of interest were presented in the first little spot.
As the group made their way around the room, they found containers displaying arrows and spearheads made from flint. Bows, arrows, rifles, pistols, and various other weapons were displayed on the walls behind these glass boxes. A few rusty knives hung precariously next to a picture of a sallow-eyed Native in what looked like a suit a lawyer may have worn in the 1800s. The name under the picture read, James Vann.
Tommy smiled and let out a snorting laugh when he saw this.
The men guarding him must not have noticed or even cared about their prisoner’s private thought.
Ulrich interrupted the moment. “What are we looking for?” he said in a direct tone.
Tommy cast him a buzz-off glance. “We’re just looking at this point. Red Clay was one of the most important spots in the Cherokee Nation. Logic would suggest that if the chambers exist, there is probably something that links to them here.”
The answer to his comment was the feeling of a gun shoved into his left kidney. “I would suggest, Mr. Schultz, that you look faster. Time is of the essence.”
Shivers went through his body, but Tommy remained calm. “Take it easy,” he replied and took a few steps toward a large standup of John Ross. The story of Ross’s life played out next to the image. It was a tale that Schultz knew well.
John Ross had been the primary leader of the Cherokee Nation before it was dissolved and moved to Oklahoma. He and many white members of the United States government had fought the removal of the Indians from their ancient lands for years before succumbing to a betrayal by a minority group acting on the Cherokee’s behalf.
Along the walkway, the images of other great Cherokee leaders hung from the walls. More display cases contained what seemed to be random works of art: drawings, paintings, cups, and other pottery.
Both the guards had lost looks on their faces. Tommy was unsure whether apathy or incomprehension caused the blank look on his captors’ faces, but he didn’t really care either way. His eyes wandered the room, scanning all the frames, hoping that whatever it was he was looking for would pop out like one of those 3-D pictures that were so popular in the late ‘90s.
After a few minutes of searching, he finally saw it. In the shadows by the exit doors, a small glass case stood alone on a pedestal with a single floodlight shining onto it at an angle. In a few long strides, Tommy was standing in front of the exhibit. Wonder filled his eyes as he ran his fingers along the edge of the glass next to the Do not touch sign.
The men watching him were momentarily alarmed at how quickly Schultz had moved toward the exit, but when he stopped in the corner, they reholstered the pistols drawn a second before.
Mesmerized by the exhibit resting in front of them, the four men stared into the case. Within its confines, a piece of clay pottery about the size of a typical flower vase sat inconspicuously in the pale light.
Tommy squatted down to get a closer look at the jar. It looked more like it had come from an ancient Greek society than a Native American one. Fluid snakelike carvings decorated the front of the clay container in shapes that crisscrossed like an elaborate pretzel. As he scooted around to the back of the display stand, he beheld an image of two birds almost identical to the ones on the stone disc he had discovered.
“This is it,” he whispered.
Jens appeared unimpressed. “What does it mean?”
Tommy had grown tired of these undereducated men. Nothing annoyed him more than ignorant treasure hunters who only searched because of the fame and money antiquities might bring.
He rose from his squatting position and sighed, “This is actually a very rare piece of history. As far as I know, only two of these have ever been discovered. One of them was found fifty or so years ago and is called Vessel Number One. Until now, I have never actually seen one that resembled anything close to that vase.”
“And how is this clay jar going to help us?” Ulrich looked bewildered.
Tommy pointed to the front first. “You see, the first vessel that was found had almost identical snakelike drawings. But it did not have the bird designs on the back, like this one.” He motioned at the carvings on the rear side of the pot.
Clearly, the three men still had no idea where he was going with this.
“The stone that I found in Chatsworth had the exact same birds carved into it. Don’t you see?�
�� His voice pleaded while his hands extended outward. “This means we are on the right track. The fact that this vase and the medallion have the same designs means the clues are related!” Tommy was ecstatic about the discovery.
“So, what do we do? Take the vase?” Ulrich took a step closer to the glass case, removing the gun from his jacket.
“No, no, no! Hold on a second,” Tommy got in his way and put his hands up to hold the blond man back, a move his captor did not seem to appreciate as evidenced by the warning scowl on his face. Backing off a foot, he continued cautiously, “Look. We don’t need to take it. Just give me a minute.” Ulrich reholstered his weapon, seemingly willing to wait and see what the archaeologist was going to do next.
Tommy took a step back from the exhibit and looked around. Immediately, he noticed that there was no history placard or name plate identifying where the pottery had come from or why it was there. He retraced their steps through the corridor, looking to see if there was anything that contained information about the vessel, but he found nothing.
Finally, he said, “I need to get the guy from the information desk in here.”
Ulrich looked at him suspiciously, deliberating over the request. Then he nodded his approval.
Tommy strode back over to the giant exit doors and gently pushed one of them open. The hinges obviously needed some kind of lubricant as the portal creaked loudly. He poked his head out and noticed the park ranger looking directly at him. The squeaking must have got the man’s attention.
“Done already?” he inquired cheerfully.
“Actually, no. We had a question about something in here. Would you mind?” Tommy made a motion with his hand for the man to come over.
The ranger looked around. For whom, Tommy had no idea. Then he said, “Sure. What would you like to know?” He walked over to the doors and pulled them open to find the three men standing around the corner exhibit.
It seemed that the sight of the huddled group startled the ranger for a moment, but he recovered and continued into the museum. “So, how can I help you?”
The three captors remained silent. Again, it seemed Tommy would do all the talking. “We were wondering about this piece right here.” He gestured to the vase. “How come there isn’t any information about it? We thought that was strange. Sure is a spectacular piece though.”
Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set Page 20
