The rolling hills of the North Carolina landscape were covered in early summer foliage; a dark impenetrable green formed one tiny leaf at a time. The Piedmont was nature's reminder that the Appalachian Mountain chain was just over the nearest hill. A dense morning fog obscured the view of those distant hillsides now, leaving Nathaniel with only a view of the tall stands of rye grass in the pasture across the road.

The forest began on the other side of that pasture and ran on up the hillside, trees for as far as a boy could see. This had been his playground since he'd come here, he knew every inch of it by now. The small white flowers of Thimbleweed and Duck Potato lined the wire fence. St. John's Wort, Indian Paintbrush and Butterfly Weed added their incredible color to the fence line.

He'd been warned about the snakes and the poison ivy, Bill had made sure the boy knew how to stay safe. The deep yellow and orange flowers of the Jewel Weed grew in profusion nearby. Nate knew how the crushed leaves warded off the effects of the poison ivy; he'd had to use it a few times when he was careless.

Still, he knew what was out there even if he couldn't see it; this land was in his blood. No matter how many times he stood on this spot it never failed to thrill him. He could see the bright ball of light rising beyond the fog. East, where Sister Sun rose to give life and send Brother Moon to bed.

The rock formations in the fields reminded him of the old legends. The Cherokee spoke of the old ones, those who came from a time long past. Back before the white man came, back when each rock, hill and mountain had a proper name. The long striated piles of stone were said to be warriors who had lain down in exhaustion after the relentless pursuit of their enemies, and their bodies had turned to stone. They would forever be a part of this land.

That was all well and good, but he knew he shouldn't believe a word of it. The Cherokee, just like the white folks, needed an explanation for things and often made one up on the spot. The Ice Age had left these stones behind as the ice pack retreated; he remembered that from sixth grade.

He had an affinity for the old ways; the legends, myths and folktales of the Cherokee, his people, The People…The Tsa la gi. But all that thinking did him no good this morning as he stood at the end of the gravel roadway awaiting the arrival of the plumber.

The lint traps in the wash house had failed again allowing the pipes to clog; it happened every summer, but not usually this early on. The number of campers had been pretty high so far, a good sign for the season. Families getting in that after school vacation before the July rates went into effect.

He turned to look at the lower field of the campground and could discern shapes in the wisps of cloud. The mobile homes belonging to their customers looked like great beasts in a row. Nate had been surprised to discover the Cherokee had a word for elephant. When had anyone ever seen one? JT would know, and he probably had a story to go with the telling.

"Nate…Nate, you see him yet?" His Aunt Joan yelled from the office door.

"Not yet, I'll show him where it is," Nate yelled back.

Goodness, conversations with her were impossible, she was damn near deaf. Nate was sure that fancy hearing aid was burning a hole in her pocket rather than being plugged in her ear. Almost two thousand dollars she had told him, what a waste…but it was her money. Bill wouldn't argue with her about it.

His Uncle Bill was slowing down; Nate could see the effects of old age creeping up on him. Of course there was no telling him that, he was a contented man. The campground had been his life for almost twenty-five years, the retirement dream come true.

Nate looked down the paved highway towards the turnoff to Boone, the man had said seven o'clock and now he was almost an hour late. There were occasional lights that moved in the white wall before him, cars to and from town, but no plumbing truck.

Bill should have bought that hundred foot snake when he had the chance; it couldn't be that hard to run down the length of a pipe. But Bill said Nate was too young to go messing with the plumbing, as if his fifteen years meant nothing.

The campground was starting to come alive; Nate could smell the coffee brewing and bacon on the fry. He'd had his own breakfast before six. Living up here got into your blood, early to bed and up with the birds. The campers had come here to avoid such thinking, but they paid for that privilege while he worked.

Smiley's Rest was one of the most popular camping sites around, probably because Bill Smiley catered to 'his people' as he called the customers. Some had been coming here every year since they opened, always wanted the same spot to pitch a tent or park their mobile homes, the regulars. The Johnsons, the Warner family, Tom and Julie…the ones with two different last names, but no one said anything. Nice folks one and all, but they treated Nate like a little kid. He couldn't figure out old folks sometimes.

The 'aw isn't he cute' stage quickly developed into 'my, what a fine boy,' but they all begrudged him the maturity he felt. Maybe it was because by acknowledging his grown up status they made themselves feel older, at least that's what his Momma would have said.

Nate kicked at the gravel in the roadway, scattering small stones into the ruts. The tragedy of his mother's untimely death had come at him like a runaway train; he had only been ten years old. No child that age should have to deal with something like that, but Nate did.

A double tragedy because his father had refused to recognize what it did to his only son. His father, the man he tried to forget, the one who had abandoned them. Nate had been at the bedside as her final breaths were taken, and then she fell asleep, or so it seemed to him.

Uncle Bill had laid a hand on his shoulder and their eyes met. "She's gone to the spirits in the sky, Nate… may the Creator allow her to rest with our ancestors," He'd said.

At the funeral Nate learned a lot about his mother that he hadn't known. Bill mourned the loss of his kid sister and yet somehow turned it into a celebration of her life. But that was the Cherokee way; death was just a part of living.

"Betty Jean was our Momma's biggest surprise, Daddy's too…only he shoulda known, bein the cause of it an all," Bill said to the snickers in the small gathering of friends and relatives.

"She was a late child; I was already eighteen when she joined the family. But she was named after our great, great grandmother Betty Mobley, or as she would rather be remembered, Betty Smiling Sky. Granny was a full blood Cherokee, proud of her heritage and a powerhouse in our family.

"Betty Jean favored her in many ways, the strength of purpose, the love of life and family. She made mistakes as we all do, but Nathaniel wasn't one of them. She doted on that boy, gave him everything a good mother should. And when her life fell apart she gave him the most important thing she had, she gave him her name."

Bill paused here and blew his nose on an old red bandana, something Joan was embarrassed to see. For no matter how many times she threw it away he kept finding it, resurrecting it back into his pocket.

"Betty Jean Smiley served as an Army nurse, quitting her college classes to enlist. She told us she had a greater calling and we believed her. The war was winding down over there in Asia but not the dangers; she came back a different person. I won't open old wounds; the Army would deny the cause of her death as they have for so many."

Here he sighed because his sister had spent twenty years fighting the Veterans Administration over the effects of Agent Orange; they were in complete denial mode. Her biggest concern was if it would have any effect on her pregnancy, how would Nathaniel turn out?

"As I look out on the faces here today, I'm proud of what my little sister accomplished, she touched so many lives. Joan and I have pledged to raise Nathaniel as Betty Jean would have wanted us to."

And that was all Bill had to say, a long speech for a quiet man who was known for his brevity. But you don't bury family members every day, he'd said, I have to say something. Nate had gone home with them to Boone, or near-Boone as his uncle called it.

The past five years of his life had been a renewal for Nate; his time spent either in work at the camp or hanging around with Johnny Two-Bit. The man never told anyone his real last name, but he avoided talking about his early life over on the reservation. JT was a full blooded Cherokee, or as close to it as anyone came these days.

Nate wasn't at all surprised to learn he had native blood, although by the time Gran Betty and his mother passed it down there was only half as much. But JT treated Nate as a full blood brother, even going so far as to teach him some of the old ways and a bit of the Cherokee syllabary.

"It will take you half a lifetime to understand the old ways of The People," JT used to say. "The other half to learn the new ways. English speech makes it difficult for you to embrace the language of our people."

'Our people.' Every time Nate heard him say that he saw himself anew. But he learned a few new expressions every time they met. Bill knew JT quite well; the man serviced his tractor and Jeep. Bill had no real desire to embrace his Cherokee ancestry, it just was, and to Nate that seemed peculiar.

Nate's musing was interrupted by the sound of a heavy truck slowing down for the turn; Dickey's Plumbing had finally arrived.

"Sorry, Mrs. Smiley," Dickey said when she confronted him about being late. "We've been up half the night fixing a water main over in Blowing Rock. Can't see your hand in front of your face out there."

Aunt Joan hadn't heard half of that Nate was sure, so rather than get her started he pulled Dickey back towards his truck and rode with him down to the wash house. The rattle of small parts in their bins made it sound like the truck was going to fall apart, but Dickey paid it no mind.

"Where's your Uncle Bill?" He asked.

"Over to King first thing this morning, had to buy a new hitch for the tractor, the weld broke," Nate explained.

"Huh, hope he's careful driving out there," Dickey said. "He ought to be buyin that new filter I told him about."

Nate smiled. "Then how are you going to make any money off of him?"

"Smart aleck," Dickey laughed. He walked around to the back of his truck and pulled out the power snake on its little cart. Nate held the door on the washroom as the cart was pulled inside and across the room to the cleanout.

The washers and dryers were lined up against the outside wall and folding tables lined the center. Nate could hear water running in the Men's side of the shower room; the Lady's side seemed quiet. Dickey would shut the water supply down before he began so Nate walked back to see who was in the shower.

"Hello?" Nate said, some one was in shower number three in the corner.

"Hello back," A voice said, the timbre of the voice said young, but the name didn't come to mind.

"You about done?" Nate asked. "We have a plumber here to fix the drains."

The water shut off and the curtain was pulled back, Nate was confronted with an unfamiliar face. "Ok, I'm done then," The boy said.

"Thanks," Nate said, walking back to the front and telling Dickey he could shut it all down. He was still standing there when the boy appeared in a pair of baggy shorts and nothing else.

"Hi," The boy said, looking straight at Nate. "I'm Ted, you must be a Smiley."

"Nate, you guys just get in?"

"Late yesterday, gonna be here all month I guess," Ted said. "Your aunt said I ought to look you up, maybe get the grand tour if there is such a thing."

Nate wasn't averse to hanging out with the campers, especially if they were his own age. Ted looked to be about sixteen…seventeen, the body said jock, or at least some sports background.

"Sure, I'll show you around," Nate said.

They were a study in contrasts, dark vs. light. Ted seemed to already have an early tan giving him that blonde surfer image; Nate kept his natural coloring year round.

Ted agreed to meet up in an hour, after Dickey had a chance to finish up. The motor on the snake groaned and fed the long flexible device down the clean out. It took twenty minutes to pull all the hair and crap out of the pipes. Nate went into the shower room and ran the water for a while, watching it swirl down the drain like it was supposed to.

Dickey packed up and collected a check from Joan, she liked to pay her bills right up front. The camp ground ran from late April to early October, catering to the campers and hunters that flocked to the mountains. The town of Boone was close enough to provide shopping outlets for the folks who stayed several months, but everyone was gone by the time the ice and snow set in.

Nate made his rounds of the campground, pulling the firewood cart with the small tractor. Bill had anointed it his machine to use. The damn thing didn't top out at more than fifteen miles an hour, slow…horribly slow. But Nate had run the tractor up into the hills on several occasions; just times when he wanted to get away and think.

The rock formations allowed him some privacy and sun, places where he could shed his clothes and feel at peace with nature. JT had told him that was the native blood urging him on, Nate sorta thought it was the hormones. The urges had come on him about the time a boy needed to discover how his body worked, and Nate decided his worked pretty darn well.

He stopped at the tent sites and offered the campers some firewood; most of them took him up on the deal. Bill collected a lot of it from the deadfall in the woods out behind the house; he didn't charge the campers directly, just discreetly added a few dollars into the nightly fees. Nate was always helpful in making the deliveries; most campers gave him a tip for the service.

Money wasn't the big issue; he had a savings account at the bank in town. But that was money his mother had left for him, college money, money to start out in life. Nate didn't want to spend it foolishly; his uncle provided everything he needed. But this morning he rode back with twenty dollars in his pocket, mad money for his day with Ted.

Hopefully Ted had a car, otherwise he'd give the boy his old bike to use and limit the range of their exploration. Of course if Ted did have wheels they could ride all over town, see the sights, and run wild on the go-cart track. But first he would take Ted to meet JT; he enjoyed doing that with new kids, a good game to play.

Ted drove up to the office in a white Jeep Cherokee, four wheel drive and everything.

"This all yours?" Nate asked, ignoring the irony of the name in small chrome lettering.

"Yeah, dad bought it last year when I got my license," Ted said. "Come October I won't have any restrictions on it."

"I don't know how that works, what happens in October?"

"I turn eighteen, on the fourteenth," Ted said.

"No way, I turn sixteen on the seventh," Nate laughed.

"So we're both Libra, that's cool."

Nate walked around the vehicle and nodded. "Sweet machine, lucky man."

Ted beamed with pride as Nate slid into the passenger seat and buckled up.

"Where to?" Ted asked.

"First we go check in with the Chief, he likes to know who I'm hangin with," Nate said.

Ted was quiet as they pulled out of the drive and turned towards town. He didn't know what was up and Nate thought this might be more fun than usual; JT could be a real prankster.

"Where do you guys live?" Nate asked.

"Winston-Salem, my dad teaches at Wake Forest," Ted said. He gave Nate a grin. "Bio-chemistry, he's a real nerd."

They both laughed at that and Nate decided that Ted was pretty real. "Go left here," Nate said, and Ted turned.

"I don't think the woman at the campground is your mother, am I right?" Ted asked.

"My aunt and uncle, my mom died a few years back and they took me on. I hear I'm quite a challenge," Nate grinned.

"I'm sorry, hope I didn't offend you."

"Death is all a part of life, her spirit is still inside of me," Nate said.

"Ok, I have to ask…are you a part of the Cherokee tribe?"

"Tribe…no, there is no one tribe, there are clans, several different bands and there is a Cherokee Nation, but no real thing you may call a tribe. I'm probably about half Cherokee, and when I reach adulthood I'll join the Eastern Band of Cherokee in which my ancestors were born.

"I'm sorry; it's just a passion of mine that people get things right when it comes to my native roots. I don't want to bore you with our history, you'll lean some of it over time," Nate said.

"No, that's all good, I'm interested, don't apologize for your passions. I'll respect whatever you tell me," Ted said.

"Thanks…so I'm taking you to see Chief Johnny, I can't tell you his real name because it's a secret." And JT never told me, Nate thought.

"He's a real chief?" Ted asked.

"Yes, I call him Chief sometimes. He's kinda young for the honor, but he's very real," Nate said.

They pulled into the garage five minutes later and stopped in front of one of the bay doors. Nate could see JT's legs sticking out from under a pickup, and the banter began.

"Good morning, Chief," Nate said.

"Ahh, Little Bear…I'm glad you're here," JT replied, sliding out from under the truck. "Did Bill go into King like I told him?"

"Yeah, he did," Nate said.

"Good, then maybe I'll get that part today. I told them he'd bring it back to me."

"So you got Bill running errands for you now?" Nate laughed.

"Yeah, he just don't know it. So who's your friend?"

"Ted, I'd like you to meet Chief Johnny."

"Hello, Sir," Ted replied.

"You may call me Chief or JT, but sir is a white man's term," JT said. "Oh yeah, you are white, we all can't be perfect," He laughed. "Where you boys going today?"

"A little go-cart action maybe, then a romp in the woods I suppose," Nate said. "I really have no idea what Ted wants to do."

"Take him up to Tucker's Nob. I hear the young warriors met up there last night, maybe you can pick something up," JT said. He motioned towards a box sitting on the shelf and Nate pulled out a few plastic trash bags to take along.

The warriors were the juvenile delinquents of the blood who often ran wild, partied and screwed whomever they brought along. Many Cherokee got a bad rap for being alcoholics and drug users, the warriors were the perfect example of bad seeds. Nate knew who most of them were and avoided contact. But someone needed to clean up after them before the news got around.

JT knew they often left offerings. Beer bottles, used condoms and crap like that. Littering was the worst crime JT could think of; spoiling the land was a true Cherokee's worst nightmare. He and Nate had taken it upon themselves to remove those things, Ted might find that inspiring.

Some of the mounds up on Tucker's Nob were the foundations of ancient townhouses, what Ted might know as a longhouse, except they weren't long, just pretty round. But it was believed that the ancestral spirits still walked there, Ted might find that scary. If JT knew Nate the boy would do his best to tell some tall tales, it was all in fun.

"Ok, the Nob…thanks for the info…Chief," Nate said, giving JT a wink.

They got back in the Jeep and headed down towards the Raceway track. Nate had an in with the owner, he got half the rides for free. So rather then spend all their cash on rides Nate and Ted did two hours of spinning around a closed track for darn near nothing.

"You drive for real," Nate said at one point while they took a break, "I hope you don't find this boring."

"Hardly, not with you glued to my ass," Ted said.

Nate bent over and looked at Ted's butt. "I don't see any damage," He chuckled. "Is that a compliment or are you complaining?"

Ted rolled his eyes. "It must be the thin air up here in the mountains, I'm not fucked yet."

"Oh, so it's a complaint, I'll have to try harder," Nate laughed, and they went back to the cars.

They went through the Cook-Out drive-thru and headed out towards Tucker's Nob. It was off the tourist trail and Nate would have been surprised to see anyone but locals up there, if anyone was there at all. Ted drove cautiously even thought Nate knew the trails quite well and called out every little obstacle.

Finally they parked under the trees, grabbed their lunches, and then Nate led them out on the Nob for the view. Grandfather Mountain was across the valley, and then there was nothing as the foothills of the Appalachians stretched away into the distance.

"Oh wow…this is incredible," Ted said.

"Let's eat first and enjoy the view," Nate said. "Then we'll go look around."

They sat in the shade of a young poplar tree and ate the hamburgers; Cook-Out seemed to make the best fast food. No one came up here because the access was privately owned; Nate had used a portion of the fire trail which was slightly illegal. Of course the warriors must do it all the time but no one went after them. The rangers tended to leave the Cherokee people alone.

"Is this park land?" Ted asked.

"Sorta, a bit of an historical site as well, the mounds are over there behind that screen of trees."

"Mounds…burial mounds?" Ted asked.

"Some of them maybe," Nate said. "The men of the Cherokee built big houses for their lodge gatherings. These were usually located on mounds; I'm not so sure the burial idea prevailed at the time. But they're still considered sacred places."

They wandered the area, picking up beer bottles and trash. Ted thought it cool that Nate was so environmentally conscious. After an hour of cleanup they went back to the rocks.

"My great, great grandmother was a full blood," Nate said. "She must have been quite something because women raised the crops and ran the home. The men were allowed to hunt or get a job and little else, they call that a matriarchal society. The townhouses were like a clubhouse for the guys, but they held family events in them as well. So what do you do for entertainment back in Winston-Salem?"

"Um, it's suburban…malls, movie theatres, I usually go every Saturday. Some of the guys I know party, but that's not me. I get so tired of the games."

"My friends aren't like that," Nate said. "There are just a few Cherokee friends at my school, most of them live on the Qualla reservation but that's a long drive from here. I get attitude, I know what racism feels like. I look like most of the native people around here, but that's no excuse. I do have some close white friends who don't care what I am."

"That's sick, hating someone for what they are is sick," Ted said. "I wish you were at my school, and then you wouldn't have to put up with that crap."

"Private school, huh?"

"Yeah…does it show?" Ted laughed.

"Yeah, a bit. But I'm no different than anybody else. My skin is a little darker, my cock might be a little bigger, but I'm just a normal guy."

Ted grinned. "The Chief called you Little Bear, is that your real name?"

Nate laughed and ignored the question. "JT is probably my best friend in town, he calls me that."

They made it back to the campground by four, dirty, covered in scratches from the brush in the woods, and happier than they'd been in days. Ted headed back to the camper to get some clean clothes, Nate headed on into the house.

His Aunt looked up from her quilting. "You're a mess, boy…where you been all day?"

"I took Ted up to Tucker's Nob, picked up a lot of trash."

"That's a good boy; now go clean up so we can have some supper later on."

Nate grabbed his kit and some clean clothes. The house had a bathtub but he preferred showers, and the best ones were in the wash room. He hoped Ted would think to shower; it might be fun to see him naked again.

If they were going to hang out for a while then being naked together would be a part of it, he didn't want Ted to be shy. The boy had well defined muscles, but Nate was mildly interested in that all important muscle between his legs. He'd only seen a few cocks other than his own and like most boys he was curious.

Ted was standing in the washroom looking at his face in the mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"You gonna shave?" Nate asked with a laugh.

"I was just trying to figure out if I'll ever grow whiskers. In case you haven't noticed I don't have a lot of body hair."

"I'm fifteen, I have hair downstairs and that's about it. I know some Cherokee adults that never shave, it seems the more white blood you have the more hair you grow."

"I itch from all those scratches, sure hope we didn't get into any poison ivy," Ted said.

"I didn't see any, but it's out there. What kind of soap do you have?" Nate asked.

"Mom buys this deodorant soap, I guess that will do."

"Nope, I'll go get something that really works."

Nate went in the cupboard out in the laundry room and pulled down a bar of the naphtha soap, taking it back in to Ted.

"Jeez, that has quite a smell…does it work?" Ted asked.

"Come on, I'll show you how to use it…you aren't shy are you?"

Ted smiled. "You gonna shower with me?"

Nate nodded. "It's not a date, ok?"

Ted laughed and shed his towel as he stepped into the shower enclosure. Nate pulled off his shorts and joined him.

"Hey big boy, come here often?" Ted asked. They both broke up laughing, and then Nate hefted the wash cloth.

"Never use this on your face, and we don't let it stay on the skin very long, especially not your baby smooth body," Nate said.

"Hey, I resemble that remark…does it burn?" Ted asked.

"It will if it stays on too long, we'll wash you in pieces. Hand me an arm."

Nate rubbed the soap and watched the light green foam build up, he rubbed it on Ted's right arm from shoulder to wrist, and then had the boy rinse it off.

"How does it feel?" Nate asked.

"Tingles, but it doesn't itch any more. That stuff must be strong."

"You get cornered by a skunk and not even this stuff will take away the stink."

"You have skunks here?" Ted asked.

"Late summer mostly, Uncle Bill got nailed a few years back. We buried the clothes, my aunt wanted to bury him too. Took forever to get rid of the smell. You see any cute black pussycats just run, that's my only advice."

Nate washed Ted one section at a time, bending over to wash his leg only to discover the boy's cock was almost in his face.

"Oops…you got a license to carry that?" Nate chuckled.

"It doesn't look as big as yours," Ted said, rinsing the soap off his leg.

By the time Nate went for the other leg Ted's cock was growing. He tried to ignore it, knowing the boy would be embarrassed enough. Ted was starting to blush as he rinsed off the final leg. Nate looked down at Ted's erection and turned to show his was just as hard.

"I don't think we need to use this soap on that," Nate said. "Nice parts, Ted."

Ted was looking down at Nate's erection and nodded. "Yours is bigger."

"I'm sure they both work the same…wanna find out?" Nate asked.

Ted looked him in the eye and Nate smiled, then he reached out and grasped Ted's cock. The boy's eyes grew large and he swallowed hard, but then he reached out and grasped Nate's cock.

"I never thought…"Ted began.

"Shh…me neither," Nate said.

They rubbed in silence for a few moments and then Nate grabbed the green bottle of conditioner, something he used on himself. That felt better and Ted nodded, his eyes never leaving Nate's. The stroking was more like pulling at this angle, but they were both feeling good about it. Ted let out the first groan, he was getting there fast.

Nate felt the cock swell in his hand and pointed it at the tile wall as Ted shuddered and let go, giving up four good shots of cum. That was pretty compelling to watch and Nate felt himself begin to climax, Ted kept stroking until Nate cut loose and sprayed the wall. They both stood back and smiled shyly.

"Was that cool?" Nate asked.

"Yeah…never thought I would do that with you, but it felt awesome."

"Yeah, it did…thanks," Nate said, and then he grinned. "We're gonna do that again, aren't we?"

Ted smiled back. "Oh hell yeah."

Nate lay in bed that night and wondered about himself, thinking maybe he had enjoyed that entirely too much. There was one boy in ninth grade that everyone said was gay, but Nate couldn't identify with him. His name was Michael Burns, a good student and pretty much an ass kisser when it came to teachers. He didn't do well in sports and he dressed a little funny, those last two things were sure markers that he was gay, or maybe…it was so unfair.

If Nate had grabbed Michael in the hall and given him a big sloppy kiss all anyone would remember was that Michael kissed another boy, Nate would get lost in the telling. He was the Indian, and that wasn't said in a kind way; he got called 'Chief' a lot. But then there were those who treated him with contempt, bumped him in the halls and would pick a fight if they could.

Nate knew most of the haters and figured it would only get worse when he went back to high school. But there was a denser cadre of warriors at the high school, Nate was only afraid that he would eventually have to join them to stay safe. He was about to tell Bill he wanted to be home schooled or go stay with family on the Cherokee reservation.

And now he'd had sex with another boy, for there was no doubt in his mind that's what it was. Call it fooling around or boyish fun, it had turned him on and he wanted to do it again. He wasn't sure what Ted thought, but he would soon find out.

Morning came, the usual bunch of small chores including helping Bill with the tractor hitch. "Ma says you have a new friend in the Lawson boy," Bill said. His wife had been called Ma for decades, probably because she mothered everyone.

"Yeah, Ted…he drives," Nate said.

"You get the chance maybe he'd drive you over to the Qualla, I have some things I've been meaning to send Joe," Bill said.

Joseph Crowe was the archivist at the museum in Cherokee. The tourists flocked to town every summer until almost Labor Day. That was when the big gathering took place out in Oklahoma and the Cherokee of the Eastern Band on the reservation drove west to participate. That pretty much shut down the town.

The separation of the Cherokee people had been a contrivance of the American government over a hundred and fifty years before. The ignorance and greed of the white man, backed by President Andrew Jackson, had led to the Trail of Tears, a forced march to Oklahoma and the deaths of thousands who were evicted from their homeland.

The newly established Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma was joined by some, leaving only the Eastern Band and Keetoowah Band outside, with other small groups scattered here and there. The former lived on the ancient ancestral lands in the Carolinas and the reservation was eventually recognized as a sovereign nation by the United States. Officially it was called the Qualla Boundary. The Keetoowah never came to terms with the Cherokee Nation and still sought their separate identity as a sovereign state.

Nate knew all the facts, and yet even now bit his tongue when the history books portrayed The Removal of the native population to the west of the Mississippi as a necessary part of establishing the American nation. Jackson was considered a monster to the Cherokee, as were several presidents after him.

"What have you found now?" Nate asked.

Bill nodded and took him into the camp office. "These came to me from your mother's estate, dug them out of the attic last week. I think they ought to be yours by right, but I think she left them to me because you were so young. If you really want them I'll make sure Joe knows that and when you join the Eastern Band he'll give them back."

OK, now Nate was really curious, what had his mother left? Bill pulled a box out from under his desk and began to unload it. A small clay pipe, several iron spear points and some beaded necklaces, but then Bill smiled. "This you may want," He said.

From the bottom of the box he brought forth a buckskin shirt, imbedded with quills and decorated with fringe and heavy beadwork.

"Oh wow," Nate said, "Is that real deerskin?"

Bill nodded and picked up a piece of paper. "The shirt came from Abner Crowe; he was Gran Betty's first husband this says, so it has to be at least eighty or ninety years old."

"That's valuable," Nate said, "It really ought to be in the museum for everyone to enjoy."

Bill smiled and clapped Nate on the shoulder. "A smart thing, it will always be yours."

Nate had to tell Ted all about the shirt when they met up later that morning, and then there was the matter of driving into the Qualla Boundary out west.

"No problem," Ted said, "I'd love to see the reservation."

"It's a three hour drive one way, I don't want to impose," Nate said.

"My dad won't mind. Maybe we ought to spend the night there, give us a chance to look around."

"Um, OK, but I pay for the room," Nate said.

"Sweet, when do we go?" Ted asked.

"Tomorrow if you want, that will give us a Saturday night in Cherokee. You understand that a lot of stuff is real touristy, but I'll show you the real thing. My cousin Joseph runs the museum, that's where we'll start."

Nate told Bill what they'd planned and he agreed, handing Nate several hundred dollars for the trip. "Remember, gas isn't cheap so you offer to fill the tank, OK?"

"Yeah, I forgot about that," Nate replied.

He worked his chores, cleaned up the washroom after someone who had spilled soap powder on the floor and then delivered his load of firewood to the campers. The whole time he had just one thought, he would be spending the night with Ted…alone, and a hundred and fifty miles away from here.

Nate went by the Lawson's mobile home, a great big boxy thing. He'd been inside lots of them but this one was top of the line. Mr. Lawson was out front under the awning setting up his barbeque grill.

"Hi, Mr. Lawson…is Ted around?"

"He took his mom in town for some stuff to grill; you want to stick around for dinner?"

"I don't want to impose," Nate said.

"Nonsense, I'm sure Ted would like to have you here. He's all excited about this trip tomorrow, probably because it's his first real solo away from the family. But we trust him…and you," Lawson said.

"Yes sir, there won't be any problems."

"I think it's a great idea, Ted needs to see the heritage of this state first hand, having you as a guide will make that so much more appealing. He said your cousin runs the museum there?"

"Joseph Crowe, yeah…second cousin I think. Wherever there's a gathering I seem to have relatives coming out of the woodwork, people I never met before. I think it's cool."

"You seem to know a lot about the past of your people, where did you learn all those things?" Lawson asked.

"Books mostly, they don't teach us anything in school. History class there is all good Indian, bad Indian kinda things…pathetic. But some of the gatherings go on for days, and I sit around the fire and listen to the elders tell stories. The history of The People is best learned through stories."

"Fascinating, I wish Ted could be exposed to something like that. His sole objective the past five years has been to further his goals in martial arts, and then take a degree in physical education so he can teach. I just want him to have exposure to a greater variety of subjects."

Martial arts? Ted had said nothing to Nate on that subject, and he wondered why. Nate helped Mr. Lawson move the picnic table into the shade under the trees, and then he set about reestablishing the fire pit for later on. If they could have a fire Nate decided he would tell some hunting stories, he knew Mr. Lawson would like that.

Ted and his mother returned and she took the groceries inside to prepare the meal. Ted took Nate back to his room in the mobile home, a space that fit the bed and little else.

"We don't live in the bedrooms," Ted explained. "Most of the room is given up to living space and cooking space." He showed Nate the tiny bathroom. "Now you know why your washhouse is so well appreciated."

Nate grinned. "And for other reasons as well," He said with a wink.

"Yeah…there is that," Ted said. "I thought about it last night, it was pretty hot and it got me all worked up again. Bad move in this thing, I was afraid I might rock the whole thing on its springs." He laughed. "I had to sneak out and go over to the bathrooms."

"Oh? So I was lying in bed thinking how cool it was and you were doin it again without me, no fair," Nate said.

Ted put a hand on Nate's shoulder. "We could always go shower before dinner."

"I'll have you alone tomorrow night…what do you think about that?" Nate asked.

Ted grinned. "We'll see, this is all just so crazy, but I like it."

They met at the washhouse after grabbing their clean clothes. There was no pretense now, and fortunately the shower room was empty. Ted held the curtain open and they stepped inside. It felt awkward; they were here for some sex play and no other reason.

"Did you like what we did yesterday?" Ted asked as he adjusted the spray of water.

"It was good, just a little awkward," Nate replied.

"We could do it one at a time…I'll do you first," Ted said.

"How will that change things?" Nate asked.

"I can just stand behind you and reach my arm around; it'll be like doing it to myself."

"Ok, let's try that."

They were both on the rise and had been since taking off their clothes. Nate turned around and faced the wall and Ted moved in behind him.

"You poke me with that thing and I'll scream for sure," Nate giggled.

Ted chuckled. "I always ask before screwing someone."

A blob of conditioner and Ted reached around to grasp Nate's cock. He began with long slow strokes and it felt good enough for Nate to groan his approval. Slow and steady with the right hand, and then Ted moved in closer, sliding his left hand around Nate's waist and placing his palm flat on the boy's belly.

Nate enjoyed the feeling of that hand and then realized that their bodies were touching in other places. He was sure it couldn't be helped, but Ted's hardness was pressed into the flesh of his ass. The realization send a shiver of pleasure rippling through his body and he unconsciously laid his head back on Ted's shoulder.

"Hmm," Ted said. "God, you're hard as a rock," He whispered.

The hot breath on Nate's neck made him moan and Ted grasped harder while his hand picked up speed. Nate made no pretense now, this felt incredibly sexy, and he was really turned on. Just a slight move of his body and Ted's cock slid into the crack of his ass, this time both of them groaned. There was only one thing for it, Nate turned his face towards Ted's neck and kissed it.

It was such an overt move, removing any blush of innocence from what they were doing. Ted groaned and turned his face until their lips met, and they both surrendered to the passion and the flow of emotion. The kiss lasted a full minute, long enough for Ted to stroke harder and bring Nate to a resounding orgasm, which broke the kiss.

"Oh…wow," Nate groaned.

"Oh Jeez," Ted gasped and Nate felt a warm fluid running down his leg.

Nate turned his body and they hugged one another. "I'm sorry," Ted said.

"Sorry, for what?" Nate asked. "That was awesome; you can kiss me any time you want."

"I mean…well, for spraying cum on your leg."

Nate grinned and reached down to Ted's cock, stripping it of the remaining juice. He took the small blobs that oozed out on his hand and wiped them on his chest. "Maybe I'll grow hair now."

Ted's eyes grew wide and he snickered, which turned into outright laughter, and they both broke up. But the look on his face said something else as well, something that confused Nate.

"You're so different, better than anyone else I've ever met," Ted said.

"I could say the same thing, but I like this thing we have going," Nate replied. "I just can't figure it out…I can't figure you out."

Ted blushed, something that was easy to see on a blonde white boy because it spread all the way to his chest. "I…I haven't figured it out either."

Nate ran his fingers through Ted's hair, a caress, a gentle touch. "We have time to learn what this means, but only if you want to."

Ted's face came closer and Nate closed his eyes as their lips touched again. It was like the flames in his mind leaped higher, the passion blazed and he kissed back. The silence of the shower room loomed in around them as they kissed again…and again.

It was hard to say if it was Ted who first felt the moment fade, or if Nate realized they were acting like lovers and that was just too confusing. But they pushed apart and Nate shut off the water. Ted went to open the curtain and Nate placed a hand on his arm.

"Thank you for being so close, Ted. I don't know what it is, but it feels right."

Ted nodded and stepped out to dry off. They remained silent as they dressed and Nate began to wonder if Ted was angry or just embarrassed. They both started for the door and Ted stopped and lowered his head.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you, and I hate myself for that. I started Tae-kwan-do when I was ten, I'm pretty advanced now. But there was a boy in my group; we did some things…things a lot more advanced than just kissing. I haven't told anyone about that, but I had feelings for him…and now I have them for you."

He started for the door once again and Nate grabbed his arm. "I have feelings for you too, that's what confuses me. We have to explore this, Ted…I need to know what it means."

"And what if it's considered gay, would you still care about me?" Ted asked.

Nate smiled. "If that's what it is I welcome it. I see the strength and warmth inside of you, I find that attractive. The rest of you ain't so bad lookin either."

Ted grinned. "God, you are so fine…so accepting."

Nate nodded. "I'm already made to be who I am from the moment of birth. My path is laid and now I must walk upon it. That's how the Cherokee think. This life is a given…I can't reject what it brings. I can only seek understanding and share the wealth with others."

There were tears in Ted's eyes when Nate was done. He had been so afraid of rejection and found none; Nate was a unique and wonderful person.

"You have no idea how fine that sounds," Ted said.

"Give it time, I'm sure you'll find something you dislike about me," Nate said, and then he leaned over and kissed Ted's cheek. "Hungry? Sex sure has a powerful effect on my appetite."

"I could eat a bear," Ted said.

"Whoa, I guess I better be careful then," Nate laughed.

The dinner was almost ready when they got back and they ate just about dusk. Time enough to eat Mrs. Lawson's strawberry shortcake for dessert and light a fire in the pit. Ted's parents sat on lawn chairs while Nate and Ted chose a couple of logs close to the flames.

"It gets quiet up here at night," Mr. Lawson said. "If I come out late enough I can see eyes glowing in the trees."

Nate smiled. "That's probably Mrs. Winslow's cats, their eyes glow in the dark like a cougar."

"You have a lot of wild animals up here?" Mrs. Lawson asked.

Nate nodded; she couldn't have played into his hands any better if he'd coached her.

"These hills and fields used to swarm with buffalo and deer, the only predators they faced were the cougar and man. A man could feed his whole family for a week on one buffalo and provide them with warm hides for the winter snows.

"The Cherokee used to hunt in these woods for hundred's of years, raise their families and stay in touch with the earth. In spiritual terms the four points of the compass are sacred to us, as is every stretch of water. The beliefs of my people are tied to the earth and everything that lives upon it.

"There is a document, a syllabary, which defines the Cherokee language, it's like our alphabet. But as the words in our speech grew more complicated it became harder for everyone to learn, and so Sequoyah developed the written language. The task of understanding the language is enormous; I'm still working on it.

"The best way to learn is to listen to the stories told by the elders around just such a fire as this. In the dead of winter our ancestors would be closed up in their winter houses of wood and mud. Whole families would huddle around a small fire and tell stories. I'll tell you one, an ancient tale of bear hunting."

Nate stared up at the stars just beginning to appear in the night sky, and he began.

"There were four brothers, hunters of great renown in their clan. It was early fall and the leaves were changing on the trees when they received a messenger in their village; a great and dangerous bear was stalking their cousins in the next village some miles away.

"Because they had a reputation to keep they dropped what they were doing and grabbed their spears, taking off at a run for the next village. One of the brothers was a fat and lazy man who whined and complained all the time. This time it was that they had brought no food with them for the hunt.

"'Think not of food, for when we catch that bear and kill it we will be able to feed the family for weeks,' the eldest said, and on they ran, bursting into the village where everything was silent. The doors to the huts were barred, no fires burned for cooking, the people were afraid.

"'Look, see the fearsome marks of this great beast,' the messenger said. And sure enough, there were great claw marks scratched on the ground and on nearby trees. 'The bear will grow bolder and soon return to eat us,' the messenger said.

"The elder of the four laughed. 'We will not allow that, we will seek him out and find his trail. For everyone knows if we find his trail then he will have to run away as we track him.' So they set out into the woods, searching the ground for marks left by the bear.

"Now the lazy brother complained once again. 'We did not take any food from the village to feed ourselves, how ungrateful of them not to feed us.'

"But the brothers fanned out and soon found marks left by the bear. They heard a great noise ahead in the bushes and suddenly this huge white bear, this monster of a white bear, appeared and the brothers yelled in triumph. The bear took flight, running away from them at great speed.

"The rest of that day they chased the great beast, higher and higher it climbed into the mountains but they were right on it's tail. The lazy brother soon tired of the chase and moaned about his lack of food so he pretended to sprain his ankle.

"'Oh, I am injured, you must carry me,' the lazy one moaned. The brothers shrugged and took turns carrying the man on their backs, it slowed them down and they had to work harder, but the bear was still in sight.

"So high they climbed that all sounds of the forest vanished and the darkness enveloped them, but the white bear was easy to follow in the darkness. And finally the bear tired of running and turned, rearing on its hind legs. But the brothers were too tired to attack, all but the lazy brother who sprang to his feet and cried that he was all better now. Grabbing his spear he lunged at the bear.

"His spear penetrated the bear's hide and the great beast went down. The lazy brother butchered the bear and began to cook the meat. All four ate to their heart's content and sat back to savor the fullness. But in looking around they suddenly realized they didn't know where they were. The darkness around them gave no clue; they had run right up into the sky high above the mountains.

"It was then that they looked up and saw the bear reassemble itself, standing on his hind legs and shaking his great body. The brothers reached for their spears and the great bear took off running once again…and he still runs to this day.

"For if you look up at the night sky you will still see him there. What we see as the cup of the Big Dipper is actually the bear, and the handle is the brothers giving chase. It's said that in the cold months of the year the blood of the great bear falls from the sky and paints the leaves of the maple tree. And when the ground is covered in white it is really the fat dripping from the cooking fires these brothers build. The cycle goes on and on, and like the hunt it never ends."

Nate smiled. "The end."

The Lawson's all applauded and Ted gave Nate a pat on the back. "Wow, what a story," He said.

"Much of the folklore is a teaching tool, stories told to the young, known so well by the elders of the clan," Nate said. "Four brothers, the number is significant. It speaks to the four cardinal point of the compass. Symbolism is very important to the understanding of the nature beneath our feet and the universe above. Every culture struggles to discover and explain the unknown."

"I tell my students that every semester," Mr. Lawson said. "It's too easy to see something that's not there because it's what you want to see, what you've been assigned to find. False claims of success plague my field. I envy the success those Cherokee had in explaining their world from generation to generation."

Nate nodded. "We're taught the scientific facts of the universe in school, but I don't think they're as much fun as the folklore tales."

"You're quite the academic I gather," Mrs. Lawson said.

"I learn more from reading than from class," Nate said. "There's a bunch at my school that are determined to learn nothing and they make it hard on the rest of us."

"You said that before, what can you do about it?" Ted asked.

"Nothing really, home school is starting to look like a good option."

"I'm sorry, don't you feel like that's running away."

"Ted, I can't fight some of these people. Being Cherokee doesn't mean I can carry a war club to school."

"I agree…maybe there's another way."


On to Chapter Two

Chapter Index

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Nathaniel Smiley is © 2009 by Chris James.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.


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