Wheezer and the Road to Gold: Book Five

By Kitty Sutton

In 1848, gold was discovered in the mountains of California.  It is a little known fact that the Cherokees of Indian Territory were excited by the news and they quickly formed a company.  But, what trail would they take?  It was said that the Santa Fe Trail Trail leaving from Independence, Missouri was full of cholera and death.&n

• Language: English
• Publisher: Little Buffalo Arts Publishing
• Release date: Dec 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732149694

Kitty Sutton

Kitty Sutton was born Kathleen Kelley to an Osage/Irish family. Both sides of her family were from performing families in Kansas City, Missouri and Kitty was trained from an early age in dance, vocal, art and musical instruments. Her father was a Naval band leader. During the Great Depression, her mother helped to support her family by tap dancing in the speakeasys even though she was just a child; she was very tall for her age but made up like an adult. Kitty had music and art on all sides of her family which ultimately helped to feed her imaginative mind and desire to succeed. Kitty married a wonderful Cherokee artist from Oklahoma, in fact the very area that she writes about in her Wheezer series of novels. After raising her family, Kitty came to Branson, Missouri and performed in her own one woman show there for twelve years. To honor her father, she performed under the name Kitty Kelley. She has three music albums and several original songs to her credit and is best known for her comical, feel good song called, It Ain't Over Till The Fat Lady Sings. Kitty has been writing for many years and in 2011 we accepted her manuscript of a historical Native American murder mystery. First in a line of stories featuring Wheezer, a Jack Russell Terrier and his Cherokee friend, Sasa, it is called, Wheezer And The Painted Frog. Kitty lives in the southwestern corner of Missouri near Branson with her husband of 40 years and her three Jack Russell Terriers, one of which is the real and wonderful Wheezer.

Book preview

"In WHEEZER AND THE PAINTED FROG Kitty Sutton has penned the first of a delightful series of novels set against the Cherokee removal. Orphaned and exploited in a new land, a young Cherokee girl seeks justice for the murder of her brother and to her aid comes Wheezer, a small white dog with the charm and sensibility to both ferret out the bad guys and bring a sparkling cast of characters together.             

We consider Kitty Sutton's novels a tantalizing hook to reel young readers into the magic and enjoyment of our nation's history."

W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O'Neal Gear - New York Times bestselling authors of People of the Morning Star.

Once again Kitty Sutton has spun a magical tale in WHEEZER AND THE SHY COYOTE. New villains are preying on the Native peoples struggling to build new homes in Oklahoma. Wheezer’s beloved ‘People' are drawn inexorably into a dangerous web of intrigue as they struggle to  stop the insidious whiskey trade. With 'his ‘people's' lives on the line, it's up to Wheezer and his curious new friend 'Yellow Eyes’, a shy coyote, to break the case open. Steeped in Native American history and lore, WHEEZER AND THE SHY COYOTE is a worthy successor in the 'Mystery from the Trail of Tears' series.

Kathleen O'Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear - New York Times bestselling authors of PEOPLE OF THE SONGTRAIL.

WHEEZER AND THE SHY COYOTE is a worthy successor in the 'Mystery from the Trail of Tears' series.

Kathleen O'Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear - New York Times bestselling authors of PEOPLE OF THE SONGTRAIL.

Wheezer and the Painted Frog is at once joyous and heartbreaking.  You will ache for the suffering, be outraged by the wrongs, fascinated by the way of life, identify with Sasa and above all you will love Wheezer.  You will look for his spirit in every dog you meet!

Anne Perry, Author of Acceptable Loss

WHEEZER AND THE

ROAD TO GOLD

Written by

Kitty Sutton

Published by

Little Buffalo Arts Publishing

© 2018

Cover Art:  Kitty Sutton

Copyright 2018 Kitty Sutton and

Little Buffalo Arts Publishing

ISBN-13:  978-1-7321496-8-7

ISBN-10:  1-7321496-8-2

All rights reserved.  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction.  Although it is based on real historical events, some characters have been created for the sake of this story.  Actual persons have been included, based on documentation of their presence at relevant events, but actual dialogue is speculation, used to enhance the dramatic tension of the story.  Certain words and dialects are used which are representative of the point in history in which this story took place and should be viewed as such.

In an effort to present the broadest view of the events happening in this period, the author has condensed the time line so that some events may not appear in their proper sequence, year or season.  Any mistakes made, or omissions of other pertinent events happening during this era are purely the artistic license by the author and may be taken up later in this ongoing saga.

Acknowledgments

I would like to acknowledge the helpful work of my editor, Marilyn M Alvey.  She worked long hours to whip my book into shape.  She is also a good friend.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to my dear brothers and sisters in Jehovah’s congregation who have encouraged me and supported me in my endeavor.  Writers write in a vacuum of sorts, and their help and opinions are of utmost value to me.

Wheezer and the Road to Gold

By Kitty Sutton

Prologue

Mountain sat by the stream with a small bowl he was using to pan for gold.  It was all he had after his tools were stolen away the night before.  The boy, now only thirteen, was a member of a local Nez Perce' tribe.  His name was ESPOWYES, which means Light on the Mountain, but everyone called him Mountain instead.  His tools were few, however they was all he owned, so now he was depressed.  He had used the small bowl a few times with no results but, he knew there was gold in this spot.  He had been finding some the day before.  But, the thieves had also taken his poke or small bag of what he had gleaned so far.

He had watched the miners who had come to the mountains once word got out that John Sutter had found gold in his stream where they were building a new mill.  So far, it was only local people showing up to stake a claim on any of the subsidiary streams in the area, but gold was being found everywhere they looked.  Some of the white men wanted to increase their claims, so they hired some of Mountain's people to mine the claims for them, but they only paid them a few pennies a day for a full day of hard labor.  Most of his people had no idea what the yellow rock was worth, but Mountain did.

He had been at the store near Sutter's when men came in and used the gold, they had found to buy all sorts of things, including food and clothing.  Things that his people would never be able to buy on the few pennies a day they earned from the miners.  He was patient and waited, so that he could talk with the owner.  After the men had left the store, he asked Mr. Sutter some questions. He had been patiently standing at the counter until finally Sutter noticed him.

So now, young’un, what can I do fer you?  Are ya here to buy something fer your miner? said, Mr. Sutter.

No sir.  I want know, can I also find yellow rock in stream for myself? said, Mountain.

Well, I don't see why not.  There ain't no law agin it.  So you want to strike out on your own do ya? said Mr. Sutter.

When I find yellow rock, I can bring here to buy things? asked Mountain.

You sure can, boy.  I reckon you might do well at that.  You're gonna need some things, though.  You might as well start with panning for it.  For that you will need a large shallow bowl or pan, said Mr. Sutter.

How much this? asked the boy.

Mr. Sutter looked at Mountain with discerning eyes.

I don't suppose you have even a penny on ya, do ya boy?  Well, I have a proposition for ya.  If you come here in the mornin' and do some work here in the store for me, for a couple of days, I will give you a pan and maybe a couple of other things you'll need.  Heck, I didn't ask any of these fellers to come here and invade my land, but they keep on acomin' anyways.  So, I may as well let you be the first to get my personal permission to mine in my streams.  Is that a deal, boy? said Mr. Sutter, with a smile.

Mountain could not believe the generous offer.  He stood dumbfounded and then finally nodded his head and hurried out of the store.  The day was bright and sunny, the air fresh and clean, and he was certain that this time he would succeed. 

One of Mr. Sutter's customers came through the open door just then.

Now why'd you have to go and do that fer?  Them injuns don't understand anythin' about gold and we don't need them to figger it out neither.  Heck, if they knew they would probably not work for any of us agin', said the miner.

You just stay outta my business mister.  I help who I want to and besides, I don't recollect you ever askin' to mine on my property.  If'n I take a wild notion, I might come down the stream and shoo you all outta here with my scatter gun.  So, keep your comments to your own self, said Mr. Sutter, now red from the neck up.

Mountain was on his way back to his village to let his mother know where he would be for the next few days.  And that is how it had begun.  While working at the store, he had watched the various purchases and how just a pinch of the yellow rocks would pay for many things.  He quickly understood that his people were being taken advantage of by the miners.  But, when he told the elders of his village what he had learned, they did not believe him.  They could not conceive of any rock, no matter what color, that would be worth that much.  They assumed that white men must want the rocks for some spiritual purpose or they were crazy.

So, Mountain decided to keep his knowledge to himself and when he bought the many things at the store with a small amount of his yellow rocks, he would make believers of all the elders. 

But today he sat dejectedly by the part of the stream that Sutter said would be his to mine.  Sutter had called it a claim.  He thought over what he should do next.  He would have to start over; there was no question about that.

The next day he found himself back at Sutter's store.  He waited for all the customers to leave before he approached Mr. Sutter.

What now boy?  Aren't ya havin' any luck? asked Mr. Sutter.

People came at night, toke my pan, my poke.  I have no more yellow rock to buy with, said Mountain.

"Don't that beat all?  Maybe I did not teach you enough before sending you out to mine your claim.  First of all you have to find a hidin' place for your poke.  You must hide it every day.  It must be in a place that can't be washed out if the stream rises.  Also, you need to keep your equipment with you where you sleep.  That way you will wake up if someone tries to slip away with it.  You're gonna have to be a mite more cautious if you expect to succeed in pannin' for gold.

So, I suppose you are lookin' to earn another pan and poke bag.  Well, as it happens, I could use a little more help at the store.  So, come on back in the mornin' and let's be earnin' you some equipment, said Mr. Sutter.

Mr. Sutter watched as a smile grew across Mountain's face and he felt good, that this boy had not given up.

Mountain started for home, happy that Mr. Sutter needed more help.  He would be back mining very soon.  He took the trail that lead to his village. The trail wound around the bluffs and small hills and crossed a couple of small streams.  He came upon the first one and began to cross when he heard shouting.  Not sure if he was in danger, he ran and hid behind some rocks on the other side of the stream and watched through the branches of a thicket.  What he saw made his blood run cold.

Mountain's uncle was standing by the stream with a white man who was yelling and waving his arms around.  Then the white man struck his uncle.  His uncle stumbled back but did not retaliate.  It was well known that Indians that hurt white men would be killed, no matter the reason.

I don't want you to stop your pannin' for any reason, see?  I say when you get to stop.  I don't want no more, lazy, loafin' around.  You're working for me now.  So get to it, yelled the white man.

The boy watched while his uncle picked up the pan and began again to scoop up the under-water gravel and started to swirl the mass around until the yellow flakes and nuggets ended up at the bottom of the pan.  The young boy saw no reason why his uncle had to demean himself to work for this white man who beat his workers.

As he continued down the trail, he debated in his mind whether or not he should tell his family about the incident.  His uncle might not appreciate anyone knowing that he had let a white man strike him.  However, he thought it would be better to show his people by using the gold rock to buy things his family needed.  Then his uncle could quit working for the miner and mine the yellow rock for himself.

Mountain had worked three full days to earn back his equipment, with a few coins left over.  So he quickly made his way back to his small claim.  Once there he went about the chore of setting up camp again.  By early afternoon, Mountain was again panning for the gold rocks.  He worked steadily for another five days, making sure to hide his poke each day and sleeping with his panning equipment.

On the sixth day, Mountain woke to find men standing over him and he sat up with a start.

Well, lookee here, boys.  We got us an injun who thinks he can pan for the gold his-self.  I don't reckon he understands the way of things.  Maybe we ought to enlighten him, said the one that was nearest to Mountain.

The man was very tall and wore a scruffy beard.  The others with him, all solemn, dirty faced, white men, nodded their heads.

This is my own claim.  Mr. Sutter owns this land.  He wrote claim down on your talking leaves that says this place I work is for me, said Mountain, his anger beginning to boil.

Now, I don't see no paper here saying you have any rights.  In fact, injuns don't have no rights, said the tall one.

These words made no sense to Mountain.

There are all these streams that have not been claimed yet.  Mr. Sutter says, many will come to claim them soon.  You can make a claim, anywhere, where there is no other claim.  My claim is down in Mr. Sutter's writing.  You cannot take my claim as long as I am working it, said the boy, trying to state the obvious.

But Mountain did not understand the hate and prejudice that drove men to do unspeakable things.  Even though the newcomers had their choice of thousands of sites where they could stake a claim, they seemed bent on causing him trouble.

  Ah, you see.  That rule says you have to be working your claim.  Boys, I think we can fix this here problem.  Gold is for white men to mine, not injuns.  So, you better skedaddle on back to wherever you came from afore something happens to you, threatened the tall one.

Mountain did not move.  He knew he had the right to work here and he had already worked at Sutter's store many days to buy back his equipment.  He decided to not move or say anything more.

Well, that's too bad.  I really hate to disillusion you boy, but we is gonna head over to Sutter's to stake our claims and when we come back this way, you better be gone.  If you ain't, then you won't be around to legally stake a claim to nothing in this world.  You savvy me, boy? said the tall one.

Mountain watched as they walked away.  He had the idea that the threat was real, but he just could not give up on his claim.  He worked for several more hours having some success and adding new nuggets to his poke.  Suddenly, he heard voices.  He sprang up from the gravel bar where he was panning, carrying his pan with him, and quickly he dashed into the woods behind him.  He lay low, watching the men as they approached.  He was thankful he had brought his pan and his poke with him.

The men stood around the camp looking every which way for the boy but found no sign of him.  The men had no tracking skills to speak of or they could have tracked him into the woods.  Instead, they just let their eyes do the searching.

Jeb, we need to be getting on down to our own claims afore someone tries to jump them, said one of the men to the tall one.

Well, maybe that boy listened to us.  Just the same, I'm gonna keep an eye open for him from time to time and if I find him here again, there will be one less injun in the world.  We don't need to share any of the gold with no injuns, said Jeb, the tall one.

The men walked on down the stream while Mountain lay there shivering from fright.  It was hard to know what to do.  But for now, he would wait for them to leave and once gone, he would work until dark.  Mountain figured he would find a more hidden place to sleep at night.  He would work his claim regardless of the threat, but he would be ever vigilant to watch out for any white men coming along the stream in either direction.  He knew his life could be at stake, but he wanted to prove to his family that they could use the gold rocks to help the People.

Three weeks later, Mr. Sutter was walking along the stream that led to his mill and saw something floating in the swift current.  He quickly stepped into the stream and grabbing the corner of a piece of leather, he pulled the object to shore.  To his dismay, he recognized Mountain's clothing and realized that Mountain was still wearing them.  He had been battered and bludgeoned to death.  Mr. Sutter felt an overwhelming depression and anger as he looked down at the sad