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BURNT CORN, ALABAMA

The Legacy of Burnt Corn

The end of the Revolution War brought the beginning of pioneer settlement at Burnt Corn. Native Americans and early Scottish, Irish and English had traversed the old trails that met at Burnt Corn, known as Three Notch Trail and the Old Wolf Path. The settlement of the territorial claims of Great Britain and the United States of America were reached on November 30, 1782. The Treaty of Paris established the Southern boundary of the U.S. at the 31st parallel north. Great Britain would retain possession of the Florida's.

Spain had won possession of West Florida by military conquest on May 9, 1781. On September 3, 1783, Great Britain ceded both east and west Florida to Spain. No northern boundary was fixed for the Florida's under this Treaty of Cession. Spain claimed the northern boundary to be at 32 degrees 28 minutes North latitude as fixed by the British Royal Proclamation of 1767. The Untied States claimed the northern boundary to be at 31 degrees north latitude, as fixed by the Treaty of Paris.

The conflicting terms of the two treaties led to conflict between the two powers over the territory lying between 31 degrees north and 32 degrees 28 minutes" north latitude. This conflict was settled on October 27, 1795, when, under the terms of the treaty of San Lorenzo El Real, the southern boundary of the United States was again fixed at the 31st parallel.

The United States formed the Mississippi Territory on April 7, 1798, to assure possession of this territory lately in dispute. As created by Congress, the Mississippi Territory embraces all the present states of Mississippi and Alabama lying above 32 degrees 28 minutes north was claimed by Georgia under her royal charter.

Because of the conflict of claims between the United States and Spain over this territory, few white American settlers had ventured into it to make their homes. The only settlements of any importance in Alabama were the settlements of the Tombigbee and Alabama Rivers on lands ceded to the English by the Chickasaw Indians in 1765.

The Creek Indian Nation was another matter. The Nation had not ceded any territories to the United States government in this region. On June 4, 1800, Governor Winthrop Sergeant, of the Mississippi Territory, consolidated all the territorial lands into one country, which he called Washington. The land in question on the Alabama River actually belonged to the Creek Indian Nation. The Creek Indianscontrolled access in and out of the nation, requiring passes to travel through their land. Those allowed into the Nation to settle were traders, most of who had married into the Creek Tribe.These men were allowed to stay and build homes; many became trading posts to the Indians and to travelers on their way westward. It was these individuals who first saw the pristine territories of what we now call Monroeand Conecuhcounties. These were our counties' first settlers in the area known as Burnt Corn Springs.

When the United States purchased the Louisiana Territory form France on December 20, 1803, it was expedient for the United States to establish a land route between Washington and New Orleans, the capital of the Louisiana Territory, for the movement of troops and supplies, if necessary. Britain and the United States were still sparing; American wanted landlines to the coast.

On November 14, 1805, the Creek Nationmet in Washington with representatives of the U.S. Government to give permission for a "horse path" to be established. In the Creeks own words: "It is hereby stipulated and agreed, on the part of the Creek Nation, that the government of the United States shall have a right to a horse path, through the Creek Country, from the Okmulgee to the Mobile, in such direction as shall, by the President of the United States, be considered most convenient, and to clear out the same, and lay logs over the creeks: and the citizens of said States, shall at all times have a right to pass peaceably on said path, under such regulations and restrictions, as the government of the United States shall from time to time direct; and the Creek chiefs will have boats kept at the several rivers for the convenience of men and horses and houses of entertainment established at suitable places on said path for the accommodation of travelers; and the respective ferriage and prices of entertainment for men and horses, shall be regulated by the present agent, Colonel Hawkins, or by the successor in office, or as is usual among white people." With this permission given to the United States government, the Creek Indian Nation would change forever. As travelers followed the "horse path" through the fertile and lush lands of the Creek, many coveted the Indian Territory. This path followed two well known Indian trails, the Chiaha Alibamo Trail that led form Chiaha on the Chattahoochee River, west to the Alibamo towns near the present day Montgomery, and the Great Pensacola Trading Path (Old Wolf Trail) that led from the Alibamo towns to Pensacola. Burnt Corn was to be situated on this trail. Burnt Corn has many natural springs making the area a good stopping point on the two trails.

The Horse Path developed into the Federal Road.Peter Hamilton, writing in Colonial Mobile, says of the road: "This first rough roadway at first not more than a glazed path, played for Alabama, the part which the Stone via Appia did for the country south of Rome. But for the Federal Roadwith its forts, there would have been no Alabama as we know it." This road was paramount to the growth and settlement of Monroeand Conecuhcounties.

The Federal roadwas improved by and Act of Congress of April 21, 1866, as follows: "That the President of the United States be and hereby is authorized to cause to be opened a road from the frontier of Georgia, on the route from Athens to New Orleans, till the same intersects the 31st degree of north latitude: provided, he shall not expend more than six thousand in opening the same."

On March 3, 1805, some months before the convention of Washington, the United States Congress established a post road, from Washington City, by Athens in Georgia, to New Orleans. The post riders followed the Indian trails and passed through Burnt Corn Creek.

With improvement of the Federal Road came more and more white Americans looking for land. The increase of these settlers and their encroachment in Creek Territories helped bring about the Creek Indian War, which forever ended the Creek Indian Nation domination of the areas now known as Monroeand Conecuhcounties.

Burnt Corn would play a role in that war with the Battle of Burnt Corn,which many of the participants later would call a "skirmish" and some, according to Pickett's History of Alabama, were ashamed to admit being at the so-called battle, which was considered a victory for the warring faction of the Creek Nation,the Red Sticks.

The town would also watch Andrew Jackson's troops in 1814 move thorough to Ft. Bowyer to aid in its defense against the British. In the Mexican War, this road saw the movement of troops from the Atlantic states to New Orleans to board ships to Mexico. Confederate troops followed this road through Burnt Corn on the way to the battlefields of Virginia.

Burnt Corn had become the site of the earliest settlement in Monroe County. Even before the defeat of the Creek Nationand the Treaty of Ft. Jackson, settlers of both Native American and white descent were living at the crossroads of the Great Pensacola Trading Path and the Federal Road,which formed the Main Street of Burnt Corn as it, does still today.

Taverns were established along the road as provided by the Creek and United States Convention held in Washington. They were usually located about eighteen miles apart for this was considered a day's journey by stagecoach. Coker's tavern is shown on early maps of Alabama and is generally shown to be in the vicinity of Burnt Corn. Nathan Cokerreceived a patent from the government to lands along the Federal Road in 1819. Garrett Longmire shows up on early maps also with a tavern located approximately two to three miles north of Burnt Corn.

Following the defeat of the Creeks, the Treaty of Fort Jackson forced them to cede their lands to the United States on August 9, 1814. On June 29, 1815, Governor Holmes of the Mississippi Territory created Monroe County, which at that time embraced almost two-thirds of the State of Alabama; it extended from the Florida line to the mountains of Blount and from the Tombigbee to the Chattahoochee.

Natives Americans watched as their former lands were burned, cleared and tilled for crops. They learned quickly what the word "defeat" meant as log structures begin to dot the country side of their former forest. In desperate attempts they should form bands or raiding parties and attack lone settlers who risked their own lives to settle here. Colonel Richard Warren constructed Fort Warren near Pine Orchard (approximately 6 miles north of Burnt Corn) for protection of settlers and travelers.

Settlements naturally grew up along the Federal Road.Burnt Corn is first mentioned in the Acts of the Post Roads on April 20, 1818, in an act establishing a Post road "from Fort Mitchell, by Fort Bainbridge, Fort Jackson, Burnt Corn Spring, Fort Claiborne, and the Town of Jackson to St. Stephens. Many people traveled the "Post Road." Francis Scott Keyreputedly traveled the Federal Road in a government wagon while on his mission to Alabama. William Bertram, the naturalist, traveled the road collecting specimens. Lorenzo Dow,the Methodist circuit rider, supposedly visited Burnt Corn on his way to St. Stephensin 1804. Aaron Burrpassed through in 1807, while under arrest for treason. James Stuartrecords his journey in a journal which states that his coach turned over eight times coming from Milledgeville, Georgia. He sold his vehicle in Montgomery and finished his journey on horseback.

From 1816 and on, Burnt Corn saw rapid development. Thousands of acres were sold to families coming from Georgia, South Carolina and Virginia. Dr. John Watkins came from the town of Claiborne and other Alabamians moved to Burnt Corn from other settlements in Alabama. Log dogtrot homes were built, stores opened, postal service began 1817. Jeremiah Austill brought his young bride Martha to the area. He lost her only a few years later when, while sitting on a rail fence, she was startled by a small group of Indians and fell, hitting her head. She died later and Jeremiah buried her behind their home.

James Grace, reputably the first "white settler" came in 1816, then Captain Hayeswho bought a thousand acres of land around Burnt Corn. John Greenstarted the first school, "Student's Retreat," probably in the 1820's. In 1822 the first public road was built which cut from what is now Beatricethrough Burnt Corn to Belleville.Major Walker opened a store in Burnt Corn in 1822, and the Bethany Baptist Church at Burnt Corn was busy constructing their first building having organized officially in 1821. By the 1840's Burnt Corn was enjoying times as was the rest of Alabama.

Along with these new people into the territory, came African American Slaves. They tilled the land and planted the crops, took care of the children, cooked, sewed, built homes and barns. Today these descendants still live in Burnt Corn, bearing the names of Coker, Grace, Rankins, Lett, and Salter. North of the stores was Mr. Robinson’s blacksmith shop with a gristmillacross the street. Homesand farms fanned out around Burnt Corn. According to the R.A. Gray Historical Center in Tallahassee, Florida, Burnt Corn was a rail stop on the Alabama-Florida Railroad in 1862. Railroads do not run through Burnt Corn today, as shown on the mapon the linked page. The rail line goes form Repton to Peterman. There may have been a change in town names, rather than railroad realignment. The Alabama-Florida Railway ran form Atlanta, Georgia to Pensacola, Florida and was operational throughout the Civil War. After the war, railroad companies began building and improving many more lines.

By the turn of the century, Burnt Corn was in a "boom period" having recovered from the War Between the States and Reconstruction. The Kyser-Betts Gin Mill was working continuously through cotton season with wagonloads of cotton being brought from many areas in Monroeand Conecuh counties. The Mosley Hariston Store was sitting at the site of the Lowery Storetoday and many new homes were being built on the main streetof Burnt Corn. James and Cora Betts Kyser built their Victorian home next to the Methodist church they also built. The Masonic Lodge #849 had been organized December 3, 1890, and eventually met upstairs in the store known today as Lowery Store. The Burnt Corn Methodist Church also met there until the Methodist church was finished in 1908. A.O. Brantleyalso opened a store Main Street.

During the late twenties and early thirties the Depression hit hard in rural Alabama. Farming was no longer as profitable and many families who had been in Burnt Corn for a hundred years lost their land and livelihood to the banks and lending institutions. They left Burnt Corn to move to the more largely populated towns such as Monroevilleand Evergreen.

It was also at this time the face of Burnt corn began to change. Samuel Anthony Lowery, a schoolteacher, had come to Burnt Corn in the 1870s to farm and raise jersey cows. In 1876 he married Martha Ann Betts, daughter of James and Cynthia Betts. This union would eventually bring their son, Jacob,to begin the Lowery dynasty in Burnt Corn. Jacobwas ambitious and continuously acquired more land to add to the property that had been accumulated already by his father and through his mother's family, the Betts. This included the cotton ginand main storeof Burnt Corn.

His son, Sam,became the postmaster at Burnt Corn and continued to acquire land. During the forties the family possessed over thirteen thousand acres of farm and timberland, in and around Burnt Corn. Today Burnt Corn is almost entirely owned by the Lowery Trust, which is made up of many family members, none of whom live in Burnt Corn.

The surviving members of the congregation recently donated the Bethany Baptist Church at Burnt Corn to the Monroe County Heritage Museum.Two homes in Burnt Corn on the main streetare still privately owned: the old Robinson Place is owned by the family. The Mosley Culbreth house is also privately owned.

CHANCE

My name is Chance, and I am alone upon this land. I have long since crossed the great river. No other rides with me, my brothers, the Creeks, are some place behind me and the plains lie vast about. My eyes are toward the horizon, where the spirit of the sun sets in gold and crimson, an enormous sun, like no other that my eyes have ever seen in the thirty years that have been mine.

What I loved is gone, what I lived for, vanished. I ride westward into an unknown land, toward what destiny I know not. It has ever been our way, the Creeks and the Chances to run westward when faced with grief and desolation.

I ride to lose myself, but can a man ever lose that which is in him? That which is blood and bone to him? That which has been his life?

My brothers have told me that I am a foolish Indian, that I ride only to my death but if it is to be, then let it be.

My wife, my dearly beloved is dead. My son whom was to grow tall and sire, yet another generation of Creek Indians, is also gone, done to death by the flames from which he tried to rescue his mother.

Within me is emptiness and hate for the red coats, which attacked my village and killed many of my brothers. The studies to which I had given my life, abandoned.

I have a good horse, a small medicine bag, an excellent knife and I have the Ferguson rifle, my constant companion since my father gave it to me as a young boy, is all that remain of my past, that and a few precious times I can remember my wife.

The rifle was given to me when I was a small boy, just trying to be a warrior, my father presented it to me by the man who simplified the loading mechanism and put it into action said, “You men from across the great waters have been my enemies, but I will refuse no man a drink, you can get down now and drink.”

He glanced toward the lodges, wary of a trap. I had no idea of it then he was such a much hated man and a man known for his harsh opinions of the Indians. “There naught to fear,” I said, and there was scorn in my tone. My mother is ill within my lodge and our women must be about fixing her supper. I held up the squirrel and not without pride.

He glanced at it, and then he rode past me to the river. He dismounted to accept the water filled in the dipper from the hand of one of our women. Then he asked if she would refill it so he could drink again.

The red coat said, “There is no finer drink than this, my Indian lad. Hear it from a thirsty man.”

He noticed the puzzled expression in my eyes as I looked at his horse was a fine animal but it was his weapon that puzzled me. He wore a saber and there were two horse pistols in scabbards which were not unexpected but he also carried two rifles, one of them carefully. “What is it, Indian?” “Two rifles” I said. He chuckled but his eyes were on my ancient musket. “If you can bark a squirrel with that,” he said, “you must be an uncommonly good shot.”

“I don’t miss,” I admitted honestly, “but when our powder and shot are gone, we must live on greens or return to using my bow and arrow.”

He finished his water, and then led his horse to the river to drink. “May I pay my respects to your mother, Indian? If you say no, I shall not intrude.” No, we have few visitors here in our lands, why do you wish to see my mother, why do you come here, not to live among our people? To join my command, it is twenty miles, I believe, as he got back on his horse. He hesitated and then said, “We shall meet again, young Indian lad. We shall come in large numbers to take your lands, you have resisted us strongly and at home there is distaste for you. If you pass this way again, I will stop you,” he smiled. Your command, you are our enemies, don’t forget, there will be no drink in the lands of the Creeks for you or your command.

From his saddle he took the rifle and unwrapped it slowly. It was utterly new, unused, silver mounted and engraved. I gasped. Handsome is it not? He showed me how it was loaded for I had not seen a breech loader like this one before, nor this kind of mechanism, for he told me as he showed me the rifle. He said, “Lad, you are a very good shot, I have no idea whose hands this rifle might fall into, so I am going to give you this rifle so when I return, I will not have to kill a boy with a musket, but a man with a good weapon. Take it lad. I shall be gone and there will be no way to return it.” From his saddlebags he took a bag of shot and another of powder. “Do take these too, you surely need them more than I and before many hours are past, I shall be where there is little else. Take care lad and save it for I will return to make this my land” and he disappeared around the bend. I walked back towards the lodge, my brothers said, “why did we not kill him now, there will be more than enough time to kill him one day soon.” You should never accept a gift from your enemies that you did not return one of equal value but I did return one, my brothers, and they said, “What?” “I gave him his life; I let him leave our village, yes my brother, only to fight him again on another day, that he said he will kill you. That is to be seen.

These things were long ago, the sun was gone, although light remained. With darkness near, I still had no camp and the bald plains promised nothing. Suddenly, as if born of a wish, there appeared a fold in the low hills. A grassy slope dropped away to a cluster of trees, dark now with evening and I thought I detected the sheen of water. Many were the warnings I had received. Water holes were few, used by all, and at such place, death might wait. I had not hunted through my boyhood years for nothing, nor had the birds of death robbed me of my senses. My nostrils caught the scent of wood smoke and I drew the rein to listen.

At first I heard nothing, then the faint sound of horses cropping grass and a crackle as from a fire. Sitting on my horse, I peered through the leaves but could only see the shine of light, reflected from the seat of a saddle. It was unlikely a saddle would be used by an Indian, for the Indians are not my enemies by any means.

Rifle in hand, I walked my horse forward, calling out, as was the custom. Come in with your hands empty, the voice was matter of fact, or take a bullet through the brisket. I drew up. When I come in, it will be with my rifle in my hands and if you want to start shooting, just open the ball. Somebody chuckled and then said, all right, all right, come on in.

Several men sat about a fire and two of them had rifles in their hands. All wore buckskins; all had the appearance of frontiersmen. My dress alone would add a discordant note, for I was dressed like an Indian and the Ferguson I carried was but thirty inches long. Their own rifles looked to be forty four inches at least. “Light Indian, looks like you’ve come a fur piece.” “That I have.” Rifle in hand, I dismounted, keeping my horse between them and me.

One of the men chuckled, “now that goes right with me, I like a careful man.” Tying my horse’s feel, I walked around him, possibly I am less careful than you suspect. My friends told me I was foolish to come out here alone. You’re alone? Startled they stared at me. Now that’s hard to believe. Indians are never alone.

My palm slapped the rifle; anyway, as long as I have this aim, I am not quite alone. The first man to speak indicated the rifle, don’t know if I ever seen the like, mind if I look?

It was my turn to chuckle, white man thinks Indian not too smart, if I allowed a chance acquaintance to take my gun from my hand. I’d be a very greener Indian, and then I moved up to the fire, I held it for them to see. This is a Ferguson rifle, given to me by the red coat who said one day he would return to kill me, did he return, a slim, dark young man seated near the Indian nodded. I heard tell of them. Heard it said they can shoot six times to the minute. Eight white men, eight times if one is practiced. I glanced around at the group. The lean dark man got to his feet, “are you a Creek Indian?” Yes I am, come sit, eat and join us, we are all friends here. So we sat and ate and the next day we all went our own way.

FLORIDA BOY

A Spanish boy of about eighteen who was thrilled by the wonderful tales which he heard of great riches to be found in the new land, beyond the season. He joined a party of explorers and came to the land of Florida. The leader of the party sent the boy and four other men to Cuba on an errand, telling them to return as quickly as they could.

After a few months, the boy and the four other men returned to Florida. They looked for their leader but they could not find a trace of him. It was not long before they were captured by the lower Creek Indians. The four older men were put to death at once but the boy was allowed to live. He was tied hand and foot and taken before Uceta, the chief of the lower Creek Indian Tribe.

Now, Chief Uceta had a beautiful daughter, Ulelah, whom he loved very dearly. She went about with her father and was often present at the trials of the captives. When Ulelah saw the young man bound hand and foot, she was sorry for him. With a cry, she fell on her knees and begged her father to spare the life of the young boy captive. Chief Uceta could not refuse her, so the boy was untied. The chief ordered that he should be made a slave and that he should act as a guard in the temple of the dead.

The lower Creek Indians did not bury their dead as the white eyes do now. They had the strange custom of wrapping the dead bodies in skins and placing them on top of arbors in the temple of the dead. The temple of the dead, as they called it, was outside the village and had to be guarded from wild animals. It was in this place that the boy was placed as a guard.

One night as he stood watching the temple, he heard a noise. He ran quickly and found a large panther in the act of dragging away the body of a dead child. The boy drew his bow and killed the panther. Then he carried the child’s body back to its resting place.

The lower Creek Indians were very proud of the boy for killing the panther. Chief Uceta was very kind to him and the Princess Ulelah praised his courage. For a long time he lived happily with the lower Creek Indians. He learned to speak their language and he taught them to understand his language.

Then a war broke out. Chief Uceta led his tribe to fight a neighboring tribe to the north. The lower Creeks believed that an evil spirit had brought trouble and war upon them. They held council meeting and decided to offer up a sacrifice to gain the good will of this spirit. The boy was chosen to be the sacrifice.

Fortunately, Ulelah had heard of the plan. She walked until darkness came, then she went in and warned the boy of the danger he was in. She told him to go to Mucoso, a chieftain whom she had promised to marry and to say that she had sent a stranger for him to protest. Then she led the way for a mile to guide him to safety.

The boy traveled all night and in the morning came to the land of Mucoso. The chieftain received him kindly and gave him food and shelter. He promised that if the white eyes ever came into his land, he would send the boy away with them.

One day, the lower Creek Indians told the boy that the white eyes had been seen in the land of Mucoso. He and some friendly Indians set out immediately to find them. Searching eagerly for some time, they came in sight of a band of Spaniards. Suddenly, the white eyes rushed upon the boy and the Creek Indians, who were with him, and began slaying or capturing them. The boy, expecting to be killed, cried out in Spanish, “I am Christian, I am Christian, Do not slay me.”

The men were so surprised that they stood still in their places. Then one of them got down from his horse, helped the boy to the seat behind the saddle and then galloped away to DeSoto’s camp. For the first time in twelve years, the boy was among the white eyes.

When he reached their camp, the boy was royally welcomed by DeSoto and his one hundred or so followers. He told them many interesting stories of what had happened during the twelve years he had lived among the lower Creek Indians. He not only dressed like the Indians, but he painted his face and his arms just like they did. The life outdoors had caused his skin to be almost as dark as that of the Indians. He had learned their language and knew much about their habits and customs and beliefs.

With the boy as their guide, the party now set out on their westward journey. On about July, 1540, they rode into what is now called Cherokee County, Alabama. That night they camped near the Coosa River. The next morning they traveled on along the Coosa then across the Tallapoosa River. Following the Tallapoosa River to Alabama, they slowly made their way down the Alabama River, but that is another story.

HOLY GROUND BATTLE

Not long after the massacre at Fort Mims, a council was called by Red Eagle. The Chief had been told that Colonel Claiborne’s men were camped near the holy ground and were getting ready for an attack. The Creek braves sat around the circle in their war clothes. The spies had come in and the chief was giving orders for the battle.

The Indians could not believe that the white men would be so foolish as to attack the holy ground. It was the one place in which all Indians were safe from harm. They believed that if a bullet struck an Indian when he was on holy ground, it would split in two and fall harmlessly to Mother Earth and that if the white man put his foot on the holy ground he would fall dead on the spot. How could it be that the white man would dare walk on holy ground? The Indians could not understand it but they prepared for battle.

Red Eagle knew that the holy ground would not protect them this time; it was no safer than any other ground. He did not believe such foolish things, but he knew that the other Indians did believe this, so he sent the women and children and old ones of the tribe to a place of safety outside the holy ground. Lilla Beazley, with an old woman servant, was sent with them.

Claiborne’s men swept into the holy ground at sunrise and with their guns shot down the Creek Indians by the hundreds. The Creeks believed that the bullets could not hurt them so they did not fight. A few of the frightened warriors escaped into the forest.

Red Eagle, finding himself alone, rode swiftly into the middle of the river and towards the river bank with the white soldiers. He rode right past them with the white soldiers close at his heels, shooting at him. There were hundreds of bullets all around him as he rode on with his horse headed straight for the high banks of the river. As the horse reached the edge of the river, Red Eagle urged him on and to the great surprise of the white men, the horse, with his rider, jumped from that high bluff down into the water below. As the white soldiers reached the edge of the bluff, Red Eagle was seen riding his horse up the other side of the river bank. He gave one loud scream and said, “We have the power of the Great Spirit,” and then rode swiftly into the woods.

FORT TOULOUSE

The French commander was very eager to make friends with the Lower Creek Indians. The tribe of Indians was very warlike, and the French would rather have them as friends than as enemies. Fort Toulouse was in the heart of that part of the country in which the Lower Creek lived. The English, who lived in Georgia, and who were the enemies of the French, had gained the friendship of the Creeks. The French commander decided that he would do everything he could to get the Creeks to leave the English and join the French. So he invited the Chief of the Creeks, who called himself the Emperor of Coweta, to visit Fort Toulouse.

The Emperor of Coweta was only a boy of eighteen but he felt as important as if he was the ruler of the world. When the invitation came from the French commander, the Emperor sent word that he would come. He called together the great elders of the tribe and ordered them to get ready for the journey.

At Fort Toulouse, the French were very busy getting ready for their guests. The French soldiers polished their guns until they shone in the sunlight. The men of the settlement brought in all sorts of wild game for the feast. The wives of the settlers prepared the feast.

Just before the Emperor reached Grey’s Ferry, which was just below the present town of Wetumpka, a French officer, Bossu, by name, went forth to meet the honored guest. Bossu took the Emperors hand and told him that he was welcome. That was the signal for the soldiers to fire the salute of honor. When the noise of the cannon roared out in the woods, the Emperor of Coweta felt very proud and happy. He thought even better of himself than before and rode into the fort looking and feeling very important.

The Emperor was dressed in grand style. On his head he wore a crest of black plumes; his coat was scarlet and was trimmed with shinning lace. A white linen shirt seemed to be his greatest pride, for he wore it with the bottom on the outside of his trousers. The dressed up Emperor was riding a splendid horse and was followed by his braves.

The commander made a speech of hearty welcome and did everything that he could to make the visit a happy one. The second day, at ten o’clock, all the French officers put on full uniform and paraded before the Emperor.

At noon that day, the French and the Indian officers dined together. The Emperor took his seat with a calm and superior manner. He did not know what to do with the knives and forks at his plate. He seemed greatly embarrassed. A friend helped him out of his trouble, however, by seizing in his hands the breast and backbone of the turkey and breaking it in two with a swift jerk.

“The Master of Life made fingers before knives and forks were made,” he said.

Just behind the Emperors chair stood his body servant, who kept watching the yellow mustard the white eyes ate with on their roast. “What is it that they eat with their meat?” he asked. A soldier politely handed a spoonful of the hot mustard to the Indian who swallowed it eagerly. He regretted his act in a moment, for the mustard began to burn him. With a wild whoop and a wilder movement of his arms, the red man danced about, shouting that he was poisoned. The commander finally made the Indian see that he was not poisoned and quieted him with a drink. The Indian, however, never again seemed interested in the strange foods that the white eyes ate.

Later on, the Emperor of Coweta and his braves, returned to their homes on the Chattahoochee River and for many a day they entertained their friends by telling of the strange ways of the white eyes.

SURRENDER

General Jackson was marching his army through Alabama and was defeating the Indians in many places, like the holy grounds. In this march, the brave, Lemuel P. Montgomery, gave his life in battle against our brothers, the Creeks. With our lands taken and only a few of our brothers unbeaten, the Creek Indians laid down their arms at the feet of General Jackson.

The general said, “It was just like putting salt in an open cut, to each and all shall mercy be shown, except to one, proud Red Eagle.”

At General Jackson’s side stood a serious, gray haired man. It was Lilla Beazley’s father.

How it happened that one day, Lilla slipped away from the women and children in the secret hiding place and went close to General Jackson’s quarters. As she peeped from behind the trees, she saw the general and the gray haired man in honest conversation. She quickly saw that the gray haired man was her dear father, whom she thought was dead. With her heart beating loudly, she slipped back to her place with the old women. There stood Red Eagle, the hunted chieftain.

Red Eagle’s face was tired and worn and Lilla’s heart was filled with pity. She quietly went up to him and put her hand in his. Then she spoke softly to him, “my father lives, Chief Red Eagle. I saw him not an hour ago. I heard his voice, and I forgive you.”

Chief Red Eagle bent his tired head. He put his arms about the maiden, and then he said, “Chief Red Eagle must give himself up to the White Wolf. He must give himself up to General Jackson. He must either do this or let the women and children starve.”

Then he turned and walked swiftly away towards the camp of General Jackson. Without the least fear, Red Eagle marched into the presence of the general while the soldiers shouted. “It is Reed Eagle, kill him, kill him.” Red Eagle said to the general, “I ask no mercy for myself. You can kill me if you wish but I come to beg you to send food to the women and children, they are starving in the woods.”

Red Eagle stood with folded arms and looked into the general’s eyes. Jackson was so taken by Red Eagle walking into his camp, he said, “Would you believe that an Indian can be so brave as to walk into my camp?”

“Go, chieftain, go. I will not kill you just to make you a hero among your people. I spared your life.” White Wolf stepped before the Indian, “What of my daughter?” he asked. “Where is she?” Before Red Eagle could answer, Lilla Beazley ran from behind some trees into her father’s arms.

Not long after this, Lilla Beazley and Red Eagle were married, in the circle, the holy man of the village blessed the circle and the spirits were called and they were married. Red Eagle did not fight against the white settlers anymore and was beaten into becoming a loyal citizen. He and his wife lived together for many long years.

It is interesting to know that Red Eagle spent a year with President Jackson in his home, the Hermitage, near Nashville, Tennessee. General Jackson once said that Red Eagle was the bravest Indian he had ever found.

OLD MAN

The priest of the summer is gone and now the priest of the winter is here. The village is getting ready for the day of the Totem.

My mother said, “Red Wolf, go into the great mountain and get meat for the day of the Totem. Be sure you give the blessing to the spirits before the hunt. Be sure you return within three moons and don’t be late.”

Red Wolf was getting his bow and arrows to go hunting when Big Bear came up with Little Snake. They asked, “Where are you going, Red Wolf?” “My mother told me to go into the mountain and get meat for the day of the Totem.” “Can we go hunting with you?” “Yes,” said Red Wolf. Big Bear said, “When will Running Fox be back?” Red Wolf said, “He will return before the day of the Totem.” Little Snake said, “Where did he go?” Red Wolf replied, “He went to the village of peace, he will be back soon.”

So they went north to look for meat. That afternoon, Little Snake said, “Look, there is the Shaman of the Horn.” Red Wolf said, “Where are you going, Shaman?” The Shaman of the Horn said, “To the village.” “Where are you boys going?” Red Wolf said, “My mother told me to go to the mountains to get meat.” The Shaman said, “Did you bless the spirits?” “We will,” said Little Snake. The Shaman said, “We will now.” He made a circle in the snow and the Shaman asked for the blessing of the spirits. He then said, “Be sure you are back before the spirit of the moon rests the third time” and Big Bear said, “We will be back before then.”

So they went north to look for meat. The first day out the hunting was very good and the snow was falling very hard. When the three young braves came upon a new cabin that must just have been built, Red Wolf said, “I did not know the cabin was here, we must go. My father said we must stay away from the white eyes.” “But Red Wolf, it will not hurt to take one little look, then we will go to the village.” “Alright, just a fast look then we will go.” The boys moved so they could see in the window of the cabin. About the time they were looking in the window of the cabin, an old white eye came around the end of the cabin. He said, “Hold it right there, Indian. What do you boys want here?” Red Wolf said, “White eye, we have been hunting in the great mountain and we did not know that a cabin was built here.” The old white eye said, “I have a hot fire inside, come in and warm your selves. We do not have much food but my wife will fix you what we have to eat.” Red Wolf said, “Yes.”

So the boys followed the old white eye into the cabin. The old man said, “This is my wife, Mrs. Harmon.” I told these young Indian boys they could warm themselves and eat some of our food with us. “But father, we are just about out of food.” “That’s alright, mother,” he said. So the old woman fixed each one of the boys some of the food and put it on the table. The boys began to eat with their hands and the old woman said, “You should use the spoons to eat with.” Big Bear asked, “Red Wolf, what is a spoon?” He turned to Little Snake and said, “I remember the Shaman of the Horn saying that one time when he was talking about the white eyes, that they used the spoon to eat the food with.” Little Snake then asked, “What is wrong with your hands, are they hurt?” Red Wolf replied, “My father said the white eyes did funny things like that” and Red Wolf said, “My father said they pray to a god that they killed.” Big Bear said, “Why do they kill their gods?” The old man said, “We did not all kill our gods.” Red Wolf said, “How can you kill a god?” The old man said, “They really did not kill him Little Snake, the white eyes speak with a fork tongue. Big Bear, the great spirits make all things and gave us Mother Earth and the spirits to watch over us.” Big Bear said, “I am glad I am a Cherokee and not a white eye. I do not understand the white eyes.” The old woman said, “It is not the way it sounds, I know it’s hard for you to understand because you boys are wild and unschooled.”

“Red Wolf, you have to be schooled to kill your god. I am glad I am not schooled for the Great Spirit would take revenge. He would send the shadow dancers against anyone who tried to kill him. Red Wolf said that’s why the white eyes are always after the land for themselves. They kill their gods and everyone they see. They have to get everything for themselves.” Little Snake said, “Why do the white eyes have to take the lands for themselves and kill everything on it? Is that why they killed their god?” The old man and the old woman said, “Since you said that, you may be right, since I think about it, we do. We just may be the wild ones. Your families must be good people. I would look forward to meeting them someday.” The boys just looked at each other. Little Snake said, “Big Bear, Red Wolf, do you know what they are talking about?” Big Bear and Red Wolf said, “Sometimes they sound like they have been in the Shaman of the Horn’s sour weed, we will have to ask the Shaman about this when we get to the village.”

The boys said, We must be going, my mother is waiting for the meat we got.” The old man and woman said, “I hope you boys will come again to see us.” Red Wolf said, “We must go.” The old man and woman closed the door to the cabin and the boys started up the path to go to the village. Red Wolf said, “Wait.” He turned around and took one of the slabs of meat back to the cabin. He went and placed it by the door of the cabin. Big Bear and Little Snake said, “What are you going to tell your mother?” “Maybe I help save the white eyes god with the slab of meat. It is what the great spirits would have me to do.”

The boys got to the village and Red Wolf’s mother said, “Was hunting so bad that my son got no meat?” “No.” “Where is it,” she asked. “I gave it away.” “You gave the meat away, to whom did you give the meat, to the white eyes?” “Are you hurt,” she asked. “No, they let us warm and they gave us the last of their food, so I gave them the slab of meat, mother. The white eyes said that some of the white eyes kill their god, why do the white eyes kill everything, even their god?” Red Wolf’s mother said, “I do not know of these things, when your father returns you are to tell him of these things and what you have done. The Great Spirit will be happy with what you did. Now you boys come and eat.” Little Snake asked, “Do you have a spoon” and Red Wolf’s mother said, “What are you talking about, Little Snake? What is wrong with you?” Red Wolf, have you been to see the Shaman of the Horn?” “No mother.” You boys sound like you have been in his sour juice, now eat.”

STORY TIME AROUND 1835

My name is Billy James Chance, I was born in Louisville, Alabama, my father, and grandfather and great grandfather are Cherokee and Creek Indians.

My great, great grandfather left the Indian lands in North Carolina in 1835 and moved south into the upper Chattahoochee River Valley to keep from being sent to the mid-west reservation. When he got into upper Georgia, he hunted, trapped and fished to live and at times he would do jobs for the white men for food or money. After his family was killed by the white men in North Carolina he, his wife Elizabeth and his two children moved west into Alabama where they had six more children and one of whom was my next grandfather, Joseph Carter Green, who lost sight in one eye while serving in the Civil War, but I will get to that story later. One day a trader said, “Indian, how would you like to go along and help with the pack mules, you may have food and clothing for your woman and kids.” “Of course,” said my grandfather. He had been wishing he might get work because it was not easy for an Indian to get work, so he went with the trader. The next day he was riding through the wilderness of Alabama, driving a team of pack horses before him. When the pack train reached the lower Chattahoochee River Valley, the trader told my grandfather, “Just ahead is where we will be doing the trading with the Indians.” My grandfather walked around until he found a Creek Indian with some rabbit skins to trade. He told the trader that this Indian wished to trade with them. The Indian could understand my grandfather and what he was saying because the Creek and the Cherokee’s had been trading with each other for a very long time. We called each other brothers but the white men did not know what was being said, so they learned to trust my grandfather and what he said to the other Indians.

He had been away from Elizabeth and the children and was looking forward to returning home, for he was trying to build a log cabin for his wife and children to live in. This cabin is still standing in Barbour County, Alabama today.

To tell you a little about Alabama, there was not a railroad in Alabama or in the United States when Alabama became a State in 1819; in fact, this state was nearly fifteen years old when the first railroad west of the Allegheny Mountains was finished. This railroad was only forty miles long and ran between Tuscumbia and Decatur.

The man who had this railroad built was a cotton planter who lived near Florence, Alabama. The planters of this part of Alabama used the Tennessee River as a waterway, but they could not ship things by water farther than Florence because of the shoals in the river. So when the man who built the railroad heard of a new way of moving goods that were being used in Pennsylvania, he decided to make the trip to that state and find out about the new railroad.

He left Florence on horseback and rode all the way to Pennsylvania where the first railroad train in the United States was run. The Pennsylvania railroad was only twenty miles long and was very crude, but over this unfinished line miners were hauling coal.

If these people can move coal with such a train, we can move cotton the same way. So he built a railroad in Alabama.

THE FISH

In the days of old, the Shaman of the Horn had his medicine lodge out in the forest away from the village. The Indians were always being beaten or killed by the white eyes.

Little Snake and the Shaman of the Horn had gone to the lower part of Shooting Creek to spear fish and Little Snake always said that the fish just jumped out of the water onto the spear of the Shaman of the Horn. They had many fish cooling in the waters of Shooting Creek and Little Snake said, “Well, since you got most of the fish I will have my old woman smoke the fish to eat today. We better be getting back for I have something I have to do for the old woman.” The Shaman of the Horn said, “You do not do as much for her as she does for you,” and the Shaman of the horn made funny sounds. Little Snake said, “I do a lot for the old woman,” and the Shaman said, “How many times have you smoked fish for her or when was the last time you made soft leather with your mouth to make a dress for her? I don’t remember the last time you gave birth to one of your children. What did you say you had to do for your old woman? We must go, it is getting late.”

So they returned to the medicine lodge and the Shaman of the Horn said, “Would you like a drink of water before you go?” and Little Snake said, “Yes, I would.” He laid the fish down on some leaves and Little Snake drank his water. Then he said, “I must be going,” and he ran off towards the village at Shooting Creek.

Not long after Little Snake had gone, five white eyes came to the medicine lodge of the Shaman of the horn. One white eye said, “Look at this dirty Indian, he smells like a dog.” Then they began to hit him and break up the medicine lodge.

About this time, Little Snake said to himself, “I forgot the fish,” and he turned around and ran back to get them at the medicine lodge. As he got close to the lodge, he heard loud sounds coming from where the medicine lodge was. He slowed down to see what was making these sounds. He could see the white eyes breaking up the lodge. He turned around and ran very fast to get Red Wolf and the warriors in the village.

Little Snake came to the village and called to Red Wolf. He said, “The white eyes are breaking up the Shaman of the Horn’s medicine lodge, they are going to kill him.” Red Wolf called to the warriors, “Bring your bows, the white eyes has the Shaman of the Horn. We must get him back.” Red Wolf and the warriors ran to the place where the medicine lodge was. They surrounded the lodge and when Red Wolf looked he could not believe his eyes. Little Snake said, “Look, Red Wolf, look at the shadow dancers, they have these white eyes rolling around on the ground of the Mother Earth like little children.”

Red Wolf walked slowly towards his friend, the Shaman of the Horn. Little Snake came and said, “Do you need help my brother? I should have known that you would have all the help you needed. What do you wish us to do with these foolish white eyes?” The Shaman of the Horn said, “When they are done playing in the dirt of Mother Earth and her shadow dancers are finished with them, you can have our warriors take them from our lands. They will not return to the lands of our people again.”

Red Wolf called to the warriors, “Do as the Shaman of the Horn said, and do them no harm. Take them from our lands,” and Red Wolf said, “White eyes, remember what you have seen with your eyes, never come here again,” and the warriors took them away.

Red Wolf said, “My brother, I know that you can take care of yourself but when Little Snake said they were breaking up your medicine lodge, I came at once. I believed that I would find the spirit gone from your body.” The Shaman said, “I have been here a long time. I have seen my father and your father cross over to the other side. I have seen may of the old ones Passover and so will you and I in time. My friends, Red Wolf and Little Snake who does so much for your old woman, do you think she will fix the fish or do I need to call the shadow dancers to fix them?” Little Snake said, “Alright, I will fix them, come on.” Red Wolf and the Shaman of the Horn made loud sounds and placed their arms around Little Snake as they walked back towards the village.

THE LAND OF TUSCALOOSA

The lands into which DeSoto had now come were ruled by a mighty chief whose name was Tuscaloosa. The name Tuscaloosa means Black Warrior, this chief was as big and strong as his name sounded.

Now Tuscaloosa did not go forth to welcome DeSoto and his men with feasting and music, as the chief of the lands of Coosa had done. Instead, he sat upon his throne, surrounded by his warriors and waited for DeSoto to come to him. The throne was covered with woven grass matting and there was a cushion on which the chief sat. Over the throne was a sun shield made of deerskin, which was painted all over in stripes of many colors.

DeSoto thought that Tuscaloosa would come out to welcome him as the chief of the lands of Coosa had done. When Tuscaloosa did not appear, DeSoto sent a messenger to tell the chief of the arrival of the party. Mosooso, the messenger, rode a very fine horse. As he came before the chief, he made his horse do a number of tricks.

Tuscaloosa pretended that he did not see the messenger and looked straight at him. Mosooso rode back and forth, all the time his horse was prancing and arching his neck. Tuscaloosa did not seem to see him at all. Mosooso was forced, therefore, to ride back to his master and tell him of his bad fortune. Then DeSoto got upon his own horse and rode into the presence of Chief Tuscaloosa.

As DeSoto came near the chief, Tuscaloosa arose and told him that he was welcome. Tuscaloosa seemed to understand that he was to be made a prisoner by the white eyes. He folded his great arms and stood waiting silently.

DeSoto rode before him. One of his men led a very fine horse which Tuscaloosa was to ride and another carried a beautiful red robe which he gave to the waiting chief.

Tuscaloosa put on the red robe, then he mounted the largest horse DeSoto owned, yet so tall was the powerful chief that his feet almost touched Mother Earth.

Away rode the strange party, DeSoto and his men, with the big chief in their midst. Tuscaloosa, dressed in the red robe, rode in silence, sitting erect and proud in the saddle. For many days the party rode towards the west, going in the direction of the village of Mauville.

At last they reached the village of Mauville, where they were met by the people who welcomed them. Music and merry making were on hand. DeSoto and his men entered into the pleasures of the people of the village. Tuscaloosa sat in the midst of the merry makers but he did not make merry with them. After a few days he asked to be freed. He was allowed to go and he marched away with his head held high and entered the lodge of a friendly Indian.

Later in the day, DeSoto sent word that dinner was ready and invited Tuscaloosa to join them in the meal. The chief refused, saying, “If you leader knows what is best for him, he will take himself and his band out of the lands of Tuscaloosa.”

The messenger returned to DeSoto with these words but DeSoto paid no attention to the warning, even after he knew that the Indians were getting ready to fight. He called his men around him and said to them, “We will set a trap for Tuscaloosa. He cannot escape DeSoto and his band of one hundred brave men.”

When DeSoto approached Tuscaloosa with the soft words which he had planned to use, the big chief gave a signal and DeSoto and his band were attacked from every side by Indian warriors. A terrible battle took place. Tuscaloosa was slain with five hundred of his brave warriors. DeSoto lost many of his brave men and he lost his supplies and the valuable gifts of the friendly Indians.

In spite of his great losses, DeSoto gathered his men together and continued the journey towards the west. Later he came to the banks of the Mississippi River, called the Father of Waters. It is said that DeSoto did not know that he had discovered the great Mississippi River, but we know that he was the first white eye to stand on the banks of this mighty stream.

THE OTTER

The warm air of the priest of summer blew softly across the head waters of Shooting Creek. I, Little Snake, was sent by the Otter to get the Shaman of the Horn and to give him the bad news of the death of his old friend, Red Wolf, who was killed by the white eyes at the dawns early light. The Otter is the son of Red Wolf and he is taking this very hard, the death of his father and the chief of our village. Red Wolf would never give into the white eyes. They said the day would come that they would kill him and they did.

Not long ago, Chief Red Wolf sent the Otter west to look for a place in the lands of the Cherokees, near the lands of our brothers, the Creeks. Red Wolf had made talk of moving the village west, near the river, the Tennessee, which was in the western part of the Cherokee lands. Now our chief will not have to move.

I see the camp of the Shaman of the Horn. He comes here every warm time, when the priest of the sun is hot. “Is that you Little Snake? Can’t you find the right path to the village?” Shaman of the Horn and the Otter sent me to you. “What is wrong? Our chief and your friend were killed at a little after dawns light this morning by the white eyes. He had gone for his morning run. They got him in their crossfire near Shooting Creek. Come, we must go at once. He went to his lodge and said, come old woman, the Wolf has been killed and his spirit is in the dark side. We walked fast along the path back to the village, the Shaman of the Horn blew the sands of the maze and cedar into the air, giving praise to the spirits, when there before my eyes, walked the shadow dancers with the Shaman of the Horn. They danced up and down the path as the Shaman of the Horn prayed, telling them that the Wolf was in the dark side. When some of the shadow dancers went away, the others went on dancing with the Shaman of the Horn, but before we reached the village, the other shadow dancers returned, carrying the spirit of the Wolf to the other side, to be empowered by the prey gods. They danced, carrying the spirit of the Wolf all the way to the village.

The Shaman of the Horn said, “Otter, you will become the chief of the village now, I have sent the spirit of the Wolf to the lands of the Totem, the shadow dancers, when dancing to the prey gods with the spirit of Red Wolf. Otter, he is now with the chief, his father, Running Fox. They are now sitting around the story fires of the prey gods. Soon he will return to his tomb and you can call him to the great circle. Now we must bless the circle and begin the ceremony to make you our new chief, for the spirits have said that your name will be said around the story fires for many moons to come and the armies of the white eyes will hunt you in the mountain lands of our people. Otter, we must go to the circle now, the Mothers of the Longhouse and the elders wait. Come, my chief.”

THE RED EAGLE

There were bad feelings between the Creeks and the white settlers at Fort Mims. William Weatherford, an Indian chieftain, had sworn to punish the whites after the Battle of Burnt Corn. Weatherford, who called himself the Red Eagle, was a big Creek who feared no white man. He was light hearted and dressed himself in gay clothing, eagle feathers, dyed red, decorated his head. His hunting coat was green and was trimmed with many tassels. He wore red leggings and shoes of deerskin. In his wampum belt, he carried a scalping knife, a shining tomahawk and the stones with the spirits of the Totemism.

Lilla Beazley’s mother was a Creek princess and her father was a brave white man who belonged to the settlement at Fort Mims. The mother had died when Lilla was just a baby and the father had reared her into womanhood. His greatest pleasure was to make Lilla happy and she loved him dearly. Lilla liked to walk in the woods outside the fort where there were many wild flowers. She loved trees and the wild things of the forest. She believed in Totemism, so she often slipped out of the fort against her father’s wishes to roam about in the woods to be close to Mother Earth, which she loved.

As she strolled through he woods, she met the Indian chieftain, Red Eagle. He thought Lilla was the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen. Lilla grew to love the Indian brave, whose very name filled the hearts of the white settlers with fear.

One day, Lilla was swinging in a grape vine that hung from a tall tree outside the fort. She was singing happily, for thoughts of her lover filled her heart. She did not think of the dangers around her. She heard the breaking of a twig and turned to see Red Eagle, her lover coming down the path towards her. He said to her, “Why do you sit outside the fort? Do you not know that the Creeks are making ready to drive the white man into the sea? Our braves who lost their lives at Burnt Corn must be avenged. You know the Indians law is blood for blood. Even now our warriors are gathering around Fort Mims.”

But Lilla answered, “I know full well the red man is my father’s foe but surely my mother’s daughter will be safe from Indian hatred. The best Indian blood flows in my veins. It was my grandfathers who gave your tribe its dwelling place. Besides, I thought that Eagle Chief had stopped his fighting and that there was soon to be peace.”

“There can be no peace, Lilla,” said Red Eagle, “Until the white wolf has paid with his own blood for the braves who died at Burnt Corn. Fly with me to the holy ground. There you will be safe from harm. Fort Mims will be destroyed but you will be safe.” Lilla Beazley stepped back, anger blazed from her dark eyes.

“No, no,” she cried, “I will never marry you. You plot against my dear father, the White Wolf, as you call him. Though I love you, I will stay with my dear father. If famine or death comes, it will find me by my father’s side.”

Then Lilla Beazley ran, weeping, towards the gates of the fort. Red Eagle ran after her but at that moment the sound of a gun was heard and a bullet whizzed past his head. Lilla’s father, who had hidden himself to watch over his daughter, had come very near ending Red Eagle’s life.

Old Beazley was a skilled huntsman and a fearless fighter whom was said to love nothing on earth except his motherless daughter. He growled curses upon his poor aim and went to find his unhappy daughter. In their little corner of the fort, he found Lilla weeping bitterly.

“Death to the dog, don’t cry your sweet eyes out.” was all that he said to her.

He had given his consent once to Lilla’s marriage to Red Eagle and had felt some pride that so noble a chieftain should seek his daughters hand in marriage. That was before the fighting at Burnt Corn, where seven Indian braves were killed. Now a war was near and old Beazley’s pride had turned to hatred.

Full of anger at his daughter’s tears, old Beazley went to the commander of the fort. “We should be watchful this night,” he said, “The Indians are gathering in the woods just back of the fort.”

The commander was rather proud that he was in command and he answered, “You are looking for an attack, are you? He who looks may find what he seeks.”

The five hundred people within the fort passed an uneasy night. They wished that the commander would not be so careless about leaving the gates of the fort open. They thought that old Beazley knew that the Indians were gathering behind the fort, however, the night passed quietly.

At noon the next day, there came a fearful cry, “To arms, to arms.”

Hundreds of Indians rushed upon the helpless people in the fort, almost everyone was killed, only a few escaped. Lilla Beazley, though hurt, was one of them.

Red Eagle took the wounded girl safely to his hut in the forest. He cared for her for many days as though she were his sister until at last she grew better. Red Eagle did everything that he could to comfort the girl. He explained to her that he did not kill her father. She wept bitterly at the mention of her dear father’s name, for she thought that he had met a cruel death at the hand of Red Eagle.

Old Beazley was not dead; however, he had escaped with a few injuries. He believed his daughter slain and his grief was pitiable indeed. Old Beazley had gone for safety to a neighboring village. As he went about the village he could speak of nothing but his hatred for the red man.

As soon as he could travel, he went to General Jackson and told the story of the massacre at Fort Mims. It was he who acted as guide to General Jackson and his men as they marched to put an end to the Creek nation and to bring more crimes on the Creek Indians in Alabama, Georgia and other parts of this country.

THE SWAMP

I, long ago, crossed the great river, riding across the plains west of the great river, trying to lose myself but only finding that a man cannot lose something that is a part of him.

I said to myself one morning, after a long time on this great land, “Chance of the Creek, it is time for you to go home. If you are to meet death, then meet death in the lands of the Creeks.”

I still had this emptiness and hate for the red coats who attacked my village and killed many of my brothers, took the life of my wife and son. I do have good times that I remember of my wife and son.

I took my horse and rifle and headed east from the far southwest. Once again I was headed for land I did not know about. After many moons, I found myself in a land covered in water and mud. The land was like that of our brothers, the lower Creek Indians.

I found a dry spot, so I stopped and made camp, for I really did not know which way to go. I could tell where east was but how was a man to move in this land of mud. For the first time in my life, I was lost, so I fixed a large rattler that I killed and gave thanks for his spirit and fixed some roots to with it. Over the morning hours, I found myself burning with fever. I tried to sit up but could not. I finally passed out. I really did not know how many moons had passed when I came to. I opened my eyes but I was not able to see very clearly but I could tell that I was in someone’s lodge. I laid there for a long time, unable to get up, then this voice of a woman said, “Drink this.” I opened my eyes again, at first believing that I was dreaming. She said, “You wil live. Where are you from and what are you called?” I answered, “I am Chance of the Creek Indians, east of the great river.” She said, “Yes, we have heard of the Creeks. They are a great people.” I said, “Who are you?” “What tribe are you?” She replied, “We are the people of the swamp, we have been called by many names, but the people of the swamp will do.” She looked after me till the chief came and said, “You can stay until you are well., then you will leave the swamp and not return and we will say no more.” Then the chief said to the woman, “When he is well, take him to the eastern end of the swamp and give him food for five moons and say no more to him.”

The woman said, “The lady that walked must have taken a liking to you, for the chief is not so giving most of the time.” When I was finally well and able to stand, the woman said, “It is time to go.” “Can I have my rifle?” She said, “When we get to the eastern edge of the swamp.” I replied, “Where is my horse?” “We turned your animal loose, he cannot walk in the mud of the swamp” she said. “Get in the canoe.” In about two moons we reached the eastern side of the swamp. She said, “This is where I will leave you now” and Chance said, “What name are you called by?” and she said, “They call me Swamp Hog, Chance of the eastern Creeks, I have a feeling that we will meet again someday. I believe that the lady that walks will see to that, go in peace, my friend and let the lady

THE INDIAN CREEK VILLAGE

FROM BEFORE 1600 TO THE EARLY 1800

In Alabama you will find the Pea River, the largest tributary of the Choctawhatche is formed in Bullock County. In the 1700’s it was all part of what today is call Barbour County this also took in all of Russell County, but today they make up 3 counties. I was born in Barbour County Alabama as was my father and his fathers. Back to the river; it runs southeast of Union Spring’s and flows generally southwest for about 128 miles to join the Choctawhatchee near Geneva in Geneva County a short distance north of the Florida state line. The Pea River sub-watershed encompasses 1,542 square miles and sits just west of the Choctawhatchee mainstream. It flows 68 miles to Elba, then south for about 30 miles to the west of Samson then gradually turns east and dips slightly into Florida before joining the Choctawhatchee River at mile 91.7 south of Geneva. 93% of the sub-basins in Alabama and 7% in Florida.

Fisheries in the Pea River were assessed by Scott Mettee in 1970. He found 47 of the total 129 species found in the Choctawhatchee basin. The Pea River is the only habitat for the green sunfish in the basin.

If you move south from Horseshoe Bend you would have come to the village of Eufaula, and not to far from there you would have come to the Indian Creek Village.

Our Village was near where you enter the Little Indian Creek and the Big Sandy Creek. There are many streams nearby such as Beaver Dam, Big Creek, Bluff Creek, Bowden Mill Creek, Buckhorn Creek, Bucks Mill Creek, Eightmile Creek, Flat Creek, Hays Creek, Holly Mills Creek, Little Indian Creek, Mims Creek, Pages Creek, Panther Creek, Pea Creek, Perote Creek, Richland Creek, Sand Creek, Silers Creek, Stinking Creek, Walnut Creek, Whitewater Creek, and Big Sandy Creek.

Our Forefather choose this place because it was a way to get from one place to another by water, plus the creeks supply fish and wild live for our people, and the forest gave us trees for our lodge, and being locate between two creek make it easy to defend if we were under attack by though who would hunt or destroy us with violence.

I lived there for 11 year when I was very young, I loved it, there never been any place like it , Great fishing and hunting, the air was clean and fresh and the bird would sing but now it is only a dream of the past. That was what Indian Creek Village was a long time ago, I will soon turn 70 years old , and all that is left is a vision from long ago.

Wado,

Principal Chief James Billy Chance

Indian Creek Tribe Chickamauga Creek & Cherokee Inc.

FORT MITCHELL, ALABAMA

In 1812 the United States Government need to build Forts along what they call the Federal road running from Washington to New Orleans on the Gulf of Mexico. But this was anything but a road, it was more like a path and you would have to take your on life in your on hand to travel this road, ifs it was not road agents, then it was the Chickamauga Cherokee and Creek Indians, for hundreds of miles this so call road was push up with brush so this path was known more than about 3 foot wide in most place, it was a very un-safe way to travel from the north to the south, that is why most people that could afford it when by ship, but it took a long time by ship.

In 1810 they started to built Fort Mitchell, it was less than a mile to the Chattahoochee River close for support and supply by river, and just across the river was the State of Georgia which was Cherokee lands.

On the hill overlooking the fort was the place our people the Indian Creek Tribe Creek would camp when they when too the fort to trade in the Blockhouse at Fort Mitchell, on the old Camp Grounds our people would make their camp fires , the warrior would play Stick Ball , they would dance our dances around the fires , our medicine people would do our ceremony's.

And their some of our people were laid to rest, in 1810 Cherokee Indian Tom Green was a Scout a sign to Fort Mitchell, you fine some in the cemetery there, in 1993 my Father R.D. Chance was laid to rest in the National V.A. Cemetery , Back in the 1970's Chief James Billy Chance own a Farm on Highway 24 in Fort Mitchell, Alabama and the old 1840 Crowell -Whitaker Log Cabin use to set on the hill on his farm , it was donated to the Fort Mitchell History Society , and they in turn donated it to the National Cemetery and park .

It is kind of funny when I go there, to see the old cabin setting their, when I no it use's to be all most 12 miles away from where it set's now, it make you stop and think why would someone built a cabin 12 miles away from where the fort was, when in those days that is a half a day’s ride to the fort by Horse, by foot would be a day walk, them I found that the Whitaker was part of the Green family, them it make sense, being part of the Green Family them they did not have to worry about the Creek Indians.

This part of our web site is donated to the old Fort Mitchell and the History of our people, the Creek and Cherokee.

Wado

Chief James Billy Chance

THE CHICKAMAUGA

The history of the Chickamauga Cherokee started long before Dragging Canoe jumped to his feet at a meeting his father Chief Atakullakulla had called in 1775. The Chickamauga at that time were only Cherokee, and had always carry the fight to protect the Cherokee Nation, but from meeting as far back as 1756 there had been talk of moving in the ways of the white man. And even Dragging Canoe as a 12 year old boy knew it was his duty to fight for and defend the lands of the Cherokee. It was the Law of the Cherokee that no one can sell, trade or giveaway the lands of the Cherokee, if so you would be put to death.

Dragging Canoe wished to be a warrior so bad that he took and pulled a fully loaded war canoe into the water because his father told him it was the only way he could be a warrior, so he did just that, he pulled it into the water full loaded in front of all the warrior’s so his father had no choose in the matter but to keep his word.

Dragging Canoe listened to his father talk of what he had seen in the lands across the great waters when he was taken to England, and the White king father told him they would have to pay their own way back to the New World if they wish to go home. He talked about all the people, that there were more than the stars in the heaven, of all the villages with so, so many lodge's more than the eyes can count.

Young Dragging Canoe from before he was ever 12 years old listened to what his father had to say, he knew that one day we had hoped the white men would not be willing to travel beyond the mountains. Now that hope is gone. They passed the mountains, and have settled upon Cherokee lands. They wish to have that usurpation sanctioned by treaty. When that is gained, the same encroaching spirit will lead them upon other land of the Cherokees. New cessions will be asked. Finally the whole country, which the Cherokee and their fathers have so long occupied, will be demanded, and the remnant of the 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 behold the advancing banners of the same greedy host. Not being able to point out any further retreat for the miserable Cherokee, the extinction of the whole race will be proclaimed. Should we not therefore run all risks, and incur all consequences, rather than submit to further laceration of our country? Such treaties may be all right for men who are too old to hunt or fight. As for me, I have my young warriors about me. We will have our lands

If Dragging Canoe had not died in 1792 fighting for what he believed in and for what the Cherokee had always believed in up to that time, and if he was still here today he would say, these treaty's the white man has ask us to sign and agree to, they will do away with, and they did in the late 1880's, which they called the end of the Treaty period. He would tell you the time would come when they will kill our people for because they are doing our Ceremony', and they did, (Wounded Knee), and passed laws to stop these ceremonies until the 1930's, before we could do them again. He would tell you hundreds of reasons, and they would all be true. He would tell you that our own people who choose to follow the white man’s way, would wage their war of words to finish what was once so great and formidable people, that there will be no place for the remnant of the Ani-Yunwiya, (The Real People ),

At that time the white man will have won, there will be no more Ani-Yunwiya.

This is what Dragging Canoe would have to tell you if he was still here. A people whose job it was to fight for and to defend this land for thousands of years will be no more. Why; because the one's in Oklahoma, the White Man got to them, and they sold all of us out, the warning he gave us was not enough, we never knew depredation, the laying waste and plundering, or depreciate the express disapproval and belittling of people and plain discrimination against a race of people to a point they wish them remove from the face of Mother Earth. They are getting close to winning this war that has changed into a war of words, which they have always been the master of. They live by words that they can break, we live by our hearts, and are easily fooled. But this war has been going on for a very long time from the early 1700, they changed the name to the Creek War, and then the Seminole War, but no matter how you wish to try to re-spell it or say it, it was and still is and will always be the Chickamauga War. Dragging Canoe told you it was going to happen this way and it did, the writing is on the winds of time, only by changing the way people think can we have any chance to turn this around. After the meeting Dragging Canoe, and many of his follower went on the war path thoughout North Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, Virginia, and as far North as Ohio, with Chief Little Turtle, Chief Doublehead, Benge, John Watts, The Wolf, Glass, Turtle at Home, Richard Justice, Billy Bowleggs Halpatter Micco (born 1795 War Chief under Chief Phippe in Alabama), The Otter, Billy Bowleggs Halata Micco (born 1810 in Florida who was a Seminole). In battle in the North under Chief Little Turtle in 1790 that killed half of General Harmon Soldiers, less than a year later, Chief Little Turtle was in a battle with General

St. Clair and killed over half of his 1400 soldiers. We lost the battle against General Mad Wayne, because Chief Little Turtle pulled his warriors out of the fight. The Chickamauga returned South to Chattanooga, Tennessee still carrying on the fight for our Homeland. John Watts, after the death of Dragging Canoe in 1792, went against all Dragging Canoe wished and tried to talk a treaty with The United States, but it did not work. In time the Chickamauga, made up of the Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek, Shawnee and Cherokee moved in to Muscle Shoale, Alabama but General Andrew Jackson and his army from Tennessee moved against the Chickamauga. So they went deeper into Alabama to Indian Creek just south of Horseshoe Bend. They took warriors to aid Chief Red Eagle at Fort Mims killing around 498, and part moved back to Horseshoe Bend where Andrew Jackson came with his soldiers. Many died at Horseshoe Bend, many went underground, many moved into Florida, some went west, but the war went on. They changed the name from the Chickamauga War, to the Creek War, to the Seminole War, then the Billy Bowleggs War (Billy Bowleggs Halata Micco was born in 1810 a Seminole), but the truth of the matter is, it still was the Chickamauga War. We have never lain down before anyone, The Chickamauga were and still are the Greatest Fighting Force on Mother Earth.

WADO,

Principal Chief James Billy Chance