"INDIAN-JANE"

      No one knows her last name, She was my great, great, grandmother. So I will call her "Indian Jane". She came to Oklahoma from Georgia on the trail of tears. She had property in Gorgia, but had to leave it and in the dead of winter was forced to make the long horrable death march to Indian Territory in Oklahoma She was a full blood cherokee, and that is all I know of her that is fact. I often wonder about her and the hard times she sufferd. I just want her to know that I do think of her, and I thank her for making my life possable. There would be no Jack Burgess to carrie on for her.

      I'm making this page in mimory of her and her times. I'm proud of the haritage she gave me, and in some way I hope to tell her story. It will have to be mostly fiction becouse the only record I have of her is in the Indian Scrolls.

Thank you Indian Jane and may the Great Spirit bless you.

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CHAPTER 1

"THIS IS HER STORY"

     Mommy! Mommy! They come, They come. The Georgia sun was hot in late June. The little girl was running up the old wagon trail to the one room log home she was born in. Mommy thay'er coming! The small girls voice yelled again. She was running as fast as her five winters legs would carrie her. Her dress was of old cotten, with a red and grey pattern, she was proud of it, being the only one she had. Her mother Jane was cooking on the open fire place, and came to the door when she heard the young girls cry.

     Run, run fast Lottie, and tell your father, he's down on the creek fishing. They had heard the rumors of the blue coats coming south to rid the country of the Indians. Thay had good land, and would have to fight to keep it. The little girl was trying to stay up with her fathers long strides. Daddy what will thay do? She panted from the long run. I'm scared she said. Be brave little one, I want let them hurt you. There had been a councle of the elders. About half of them wanted to go to washington to parlay. And the others wanted to fight. Walking Slow the little girls father was one that wanted to fight to keep his land. But today would be the last sun for him to see.

      Jane was standing at the door with the old squral gun, loaded and ready. Where are they Jane? The tall Indian man asked. I think down to Darkwaters house. Take Lottie and go to the celler, and stay there, no matter what happens, stay there. Walkingslow could see the soldiers now, walking up the dusty trail. He wondered out loud if he had made the wright decision to make a stand.

      STOP come no farther, Walking Slow yelled, trying to sound ferm. But his voice craked as he yelled it again. The corpral in charge of the nine men advanced with a cockie stride, I hold here a rit from the United States Congress, and it say's for you to vacate these primises, and your to be interned in a camp at Shellbyville as soon as possible. And he contenued walking toward the old house. You stay back, Walkingslow yelled. This is my land and I will stay. Dont fight or you'll be in big trouble the soildier yelled. Walkingslow had the old gun to his shoulder now. Go away or I'll shoot. His palms were swetting as he felt the triger come back. The corpral lay dead in the red dust of the trail. Walkingslow never heard the returning gun fire. His ears were still ringing from the shot he had fired.

       The sun was bright in his eyes as he lay there on the ground next to the old house. He cried JANE! help me. Lottie was crying big tears now but not a sound, as her mother open the cellor door. You stay here, Jane said in a hushed voice. The soldiers were gatherd at the side of the dead corpral when they seen Jane running to the house. The big soldier with the handle bar mustash ran toward her, not having time to load his weapon again. Jane seen her husband lieing there with the blood ozzing from his wounds. She looked into his eyes as his spiret left him. Jane was crying out loud now as she tryed to lift her husbands body. Every thing turned black, the mornfull cry's were no more. The big soldier had hit her in the head with the butt of this rifle.

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CHAPTER 2 THE CAMP

By: JACK DAVID BURGESS

          The smell, what is that smell. Jane tried to see what was making the horrible smell, she couldn’t focus her eyes, everything was a milky white color. Her memory flashed back to the events before she was knock out. She had no idea she had been out for three days. Walkingslow!!! She yelled. With out the strength to raise herself from the damp ground. She cried out again. Walkingslow!!! Lottie!!! Mommy! Mommy! Lottie was running through the thick red mud of the internment camp. She could barely take a step. It had been raining for two days and the mud was up to her knees. The little girl ran to her mother and hugged and kissed her over and over again. Where is your father Jane asked? Lottie was crying as she reminded her mother what had happen. Jane held Lottie tight in her arms as she passed out again.

         The camp was an old military fort just down the road from Shellbyville. There must have been two hundred or so Indians being interned. There was about thirty guards standing watch from the walls of the old fort. At the front gate there was a man in uniform setting at a table, he was taking names and giving numbers, and for each incoming Indian he would issue one blanket. They also received a canteen and three pounds of flour. None of the Indians knew what the white powder was, they had only made bread with cornmeal. There was no dry place in the camp, and Lottie was covered with mud from her head to her toes. The Darkwater family had carried Jane the twenty miles from there home in the hills to the camp.

          It was after dark when Jane woke up again, Darkwaters wife was trying to give Jane a cup of the stale water the Indians were given to drink. Jane could make out Darkwaters wife’s face and she could see better than when she was awake before. Jane tried to move but the Darkwater women told her to lie still, and that Lottie was next to her. And that she had a bad wound on the back of her head.

          The smell. What is that smell? Jane asked. The Darkwater women told her it was from the burning hair and skins of the horses they were given to eat. The bones they were given had very little meat on them, and they had to burn the hair off the hides so they could eat. The Indians had made one corner of the old fort for the rest room, but the fort had no drainage and that was smelling to. Jane tried to eat a hand full of the white powder, but it choked her so she ate a few strips of the horse hide jerky.

          The next morning Jane was able to set up and even take a few steps. She couldn’t believe there were so many people in the world, she had never been out of the hills. The sun was shining on this day, the rain had stopped. And the morning sun was trying to dry everything out. Lottie was playing with Darkwaters two children. Jane was thirsty but she could hardly drink the water from the canteen by her side. She looked into the morning sun and seen the spirit of her husband Walkingslow. He told her to not cry and don’t be sad, for he was with his forefathers now, and she was to take care of Lottie, stand up straight and to walk and not ride the wagons to the new world of the Cherokee’s.

          Jane had no idea how they would survive in the camp even until the long march began. She had twenty three days to build her strength and to try to get rid of the pounding in her head.

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By: JACK DAVID BURGESS

CHAPTER 3 WILL BE COMING SOON

BY: JACK DAVID BURGESS

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