************************************************ "Hey you!" Chief Sitting Eagle
turned slowly to study the source of this irreverence. The feathers in his
theatrical headress, donned for the tourists, ruffled slightly in the breeze
rippling down from the Smoky Mountains. His inscrutable, gnarled, asiatic
features, the sign of a true born American, regarded the speaker casually. He
said nothing. "Yes. You. I was talking to you. Don't come your silent Indian shit
with me" The speaker was a young woman. Casually dressed in a style that only
good money could provide. She had, although she was still very young, the self
assurance and arrogance that denoted a woman that was used to getting her own
way. "Listen Bud. You're here to help the tourists right? We're tourists so help
us. How'd you get to this Cherokee Museum? Come on we haven't got all day." She
tapped her foot impatiently, as he continued to regard her, eyes unblinking. She
was fairly tall, blond (from a bottle he guessed), tanned and slim. Pretty too.
Like her companion who was a dark haired clone. Both of them the product of
expensive health clubs. Now their mouths twisted in unified annoyance as he
continued to hold his counsel. Her companion grabbed her arm. "Forget it Kell.
Let's ask in the shop. He probably don't know, he's only the sweeper" she
indicated the broom with which he was sweeping the veranda of the tourist trap.
"Probably doesn't even speak English, frigging Hick" They pushed passed him and
entered the shop. It was filled with all the usual trinkets that tourists the
world over buy for extortionate prices which then, forever after, gather dust.
Beads, blankets, carved gew-gaws. It was pure trading post, Hollywood style. They
saw a startlingly handsome young man tending a couple of middle aged suburban
'Cowboys'. He flashed them a gleaming smile and indicated that he would be with
them in a moment. As they waited the old Indian entered the shop and spoke
briefly to him. The old man then returned to his duties, the broom moving in a
desultory fashion, as he continued to regard the young women. At last the shop
assistant finished and turned to them. "What can I do for you ladies?" "At last
someone who can speak American" Said the blond. "Listen I was looking for the
Cherokee Museum" Another smile. "Sure thats easy to find. Just go to the next
turn off to the right. You'll see a big wall with a sign on it. Its just a few
hundred yards away on the left." A pause. "You're not from around these parts.
You on holiday?" "Yeah. All the way from Rhode Island. On a tour, seeing the
sights before we go back to College in the fall." "Where are you staying
tonight?" "Some hick town called Gatlinburg." "In that case can I give you a bit
of advise?" The girls looked at each other then nodded to him. "Avoid Gatlinburg.
Its a one horse kinda town. If its your lifetime trip then camp out on the
mountain tonight. You won't regret it. The dawn over the hills is
breathtaking.You ladies got camping gear?" Another nod. Of course they did.
Unused, it nestled in the trunk of their BMW. Another beaming smile. "That's
great. Look I'll give you a map of the park. Here I'll mark where you can leave
your car.   There's a trail up into the hills from there. It'll take you a coupla
hours to trek up, but it'll be worth it.   There's an old campsite up there and a
vantage point. Built by the park authority, but not used much now. Too steep for
the average tourist I guess. You ladies look fit enough. There's a fire point up
there, a tower and all. You can stay close to that, there are washing facilities
an all there." "Thanks but why are you helping us?" He laughed. "Its my job
Ma'am. I get paid to help vistors to the area. Helps my folks too. 'Cause my
folks own the grocery store across the street and I'm sure you're gonna buy your
supplies from them now aren't you?" His laughter was infectious and the girls
thought 'what the heck', it was something to tell their roomies back at College.
"Sure why not?" Before they left he persuaded them to buy a booklet about the
area. "To give you a sense of belonging. A feel for the history" They pushed past
the old Indian as they left the store, hardly noticing him.
******************************************************************** "Listen
Kell. It says here that there is legend about this mountain." Linda leaned on one
elbow as she studied the booklet while her friend tried to get the gas stove
working. "Shit! Ow I've burned my hand. Stupid fucking thing." She sucked the
heel of her hand and then replied. "What?" Linda stabbed the book with her index
finger. "A legend, about this area" "Probably says that you ain't supposed to use
gas fires up here" "No serious. Its about some horseman of the mountains." "Oh
yeah. Must be pretty good in the saddle cause I couldn't even get my hunter up
here, up that frigging path. Talking of saddles I wouldn't have minded getting
that guy in the store in the saddle. That was some buck. You see the size of the
bulge he was packing?" "Kelly you are impossible. Here was I telling you all
about the legend and all you can think about is some redskin stud. Mind you he
did look kinda constrained in those jeans didn't he?" They both dissolved into
giggles. It was much later, as the hurricane lamp threw weird shadows across the
tent that they returned to the subject. "What's this about a horseman then?"
"What? Oh yeah. In the book it said there is this legend about this area. All to
do with the forced migration of the Cherokee. It says that one guy escaped. Stole
an army horse and hightailed it. Left his squaw and kid. They died on the march.
They say that he took to the hills looking for his lost love.   You can still
hear his hoofbeats in the dead of night as he seeks them out and seeks revenge
for his loss." "Yeah right! How long ago did this happen?" "Over 100 years ago I
guess" "So we got this guy, who is way overdue for a telegram from the President,
thundering around on an old nag. Man I'm scared" "Aw come on Kell. Its just a
legend. I think its kinda romantic, searching for his true love. They also say
that the rain is his tears as he discovered them dead and the wind is his wails
of anguish..." "...And the snow is his dandruff. Its crap Linda. Put together to
give the tourists a cheap thrill. You fell for it too. I got one about Newport if
you fall for that kinda stuff. About this diner, dumped in the middle of a
parking lot, that serves stew made out of dead animals." Her friend pouted. "I
still think its romantic" "Ok, Ok. You win. What else does it say?" "You'll make
fun of me!". Sulked Linda. "I won't. Honest Injun". They both cracked up that.
"You promise not to laugh?" Kelly nodded. "Sure. I promise." "It also said that
he only comes out when the weather is bad. The legend says he makes it bad."
"Yeah right. Does a rain dance does he?" "You promised to be serious Kell!" "I
would but this is soooo corny." "Well I'm not going to talk about it any more.
You'll only make fun" "Have it your own way. I didn't want to know anyway" Linda
turned off the lamp and they both snuggled into their sleeping bags. The moon was
high and bright as the hoofbeats sounded.
****************************************************************** "......And as
the unseasonal weather continues to buffet the Mid West fears are growing for two
teenagers, Kelly Litham and Linda Simon, who have been missing since last Friday.
Their car was found abandoned near Newfound Gap in the Cherokee National Park by
park rangers. Sources within the national park authority suggest that the girls
ran out of gas and tried to make it out on foot. The park has only just reopened
after being cut off by gale force winds and torrential rain. The search has been
hampered by fallen trees and has been scaled down for the night but will resume
in the morning.   We'll continue to bring you reports as they come in" The
Anchorman shuffled his papers, smiled and continued. "And on a lighter note. The
winner of the Knoxville celebrity duck race was........."
********************************************************************* Juan braced
his leg across the narrow doorway of the shack as he collected the Pesos from the
head of the long line of eager Peons. Inside the squalid shack, two girls
whimpered in unison as the endless stream of men forced their lust into their
naked bodies. Already the matresses were rotting in the humid atmosphere and the
chains holding their ankles apart were speckled with rust. Juan glanced out into
the dusk. There must still be over 100 men squatting in the gloom and at least
that number had passed through the door already this day. Just like yesterday and
just like tomorrow. At this rate the girls would be used up in a few brutal
months. Still what did he care. After all, they had cost him nothing. Stupid old
Indian!