Chenoa's Long Journey

By Cheri Dean

Chenoa's Long Journey is a modern-day adventure beginning when Jade Eagle, a Native American, meets Ashley Tyler, a girl from New Orleans. Upon learning her soul is as troubled as his, he feels compelled to help her and thinks the answers she seeks await her high in the Big Horn Mountains where his great-grandmother, Nakoli, lives with a small band of Indians. There, Nakoli can help Ashley see her vision and free her of the nightmares that have haunted her since childhood.
Jade is torn between his heritage and the business world he lives in as Jim Engle while Ashley grapples with the spirit of Chenoa--a captive bride of a Cheyenne chief from the late 1800s. Since her rescue, Chenoa has struggled to return to her tribe and chosen Ashley as the path.
Shortly after meeting, Ashley and Jade depart on a long trek on horseback across plains and through purple-peaked mountains. They encounter one hardship after another beginning with crossing the Big Horn River near flood stage. Their journey becomes treacherous when they lose their horses and packhorse in an encounter with a mountain lion that leaves Ashley injured. Forced to continue on foot, they step back in time as they forage for food and fashion make-shift clothing in preparation of harsh winter conditions they know will catch up with them as they push forward.
After reaching their destination, Nakoli sends Jade away telling him Forget-Me-Not, the Indian name Jade gave her, will never see her vision as long as he is near. Sensing the turmoil between the two of them, she knows Ashley won't be able to free her mind of him as long as he is near. Jade returns to his home in Denver to wait until snow leaves the peaks of the mountains behind his home to return to her.
Become a part of their journey. Share the beauty they find along the way, suffer the hardships they encounter, and fight by their sides when Old Man Winter unleashes his fury on them. Experience the emotions developing between on their passage and share the vision they see at the end of their long journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667848662

Cheri Dean

Cheri Dine (Thomas) Wendland writes under the pen-name of Cheri Dean. She has been a closet writer for more years than she likes to think about and only began her publishing career in December of 2021 with the release of "A Dance Farewell". Though her books lean towards the feminine gender, she is surprised at how well they have been received by her male audience. Indications are it's because her stories realistically portray life at its best and its worst. A number of her followers say Cheri's books are so visual, they are like reading a movie. Mississippi is Cheri's home state. She currently lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, Charles. They are looking forward to moving to Wilmington, North Carolina, this fall in search of a warmer climate. Cheri has lived in eight states and thirty-four houses to date. Like her mother, she thinks she has wings on her feet. We happen to agree with her.

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Chenoa’s Long Journey

© 2022 Cheri Dean

All rights reserved. This book or any portion there of may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-66784-865-5

eBook ISBN: 978-1-66784-866-2

For my niece, Rhonda Thomas Hall,

and my best friend forever, Barbara Lindsey.

Both diligently proof every book I write.

This is their favorite.

Also by Cheri Dean

A Dance Farewell

The River Cries

The Hidden Message

Cover design by

Cierra Waide, Graphic Designer

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

1862

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Author Biography

Acknowledgements

Dear Readers,

As you read Chenoa’s Long Journey, please keep in mind, though much of my story is factual, it is a work of fiction. Fiction is described as a figment of imagination. It is a fabrication of an active mind. With this story, it became necessary for me to deviate from actual customs and rituals of specific tribal nations in order for events to correspond with my storyline.

Please accept my sincere apologies for the liberties I have taken in writing a story that was close to my heart. I ask you to understand that I most certainly do not mean to offend. Though, A Dance Farewell, was my first publication, I actually wrote this one first. It was a story that burned through my mind begging me to tell it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Cordially,

Cheri Dean

Chapter One

A late Indian Summer held the town of Cheyenne, Wyoming, in its grasp as Ashley Tyler wheeled her new 1957 Bel Air Chevy convertible into the parking lot of the small Indian village she was approaching on the outskirts. Though she had known about the road trip she was on weeks before she graduated from the main campus of Louisiana State University at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, the car had been the surprise part of her graduation gift from her parents. She still found it hard to believe she had managed to convince them to let her strike out on her own and spend the entire summer exploring the history of our Native American Indians in a number of western states.

She should have already headed back to her home in New Orleans, but for some inane reason, she hadn’t. Though she planned to do so a number of times, she kept changing her mind at the last moment and heading off to a new destination instead. She couldn’t figure out what she was still looking for; she just knew she hadn’t found it yet.

Much to her chagrin, the trip had been a disappointment almost from the start. She had worked her way across Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. Having little to no interest in the great state of California, she elected to head north through Utah, Idaho, and Montana. At the moment, she was mid-way across Wyoming. Her route had taken her down through The Grand Tetons and Jackson Hole. From there, she had headed east across the southern plains. Still on her agenda were Colorado and Oklahoma. However, the longer she was on the road, the more she was leaning towards taking the shortest distance between two points on her way home.

At the beginning of her trip, she met her travels with a lot of enthusiasm. This was no longer the case. Sadly, most of the Indians she encountered behaved how they thought people expected them too rather than just be themselves. She didn’t know if need or greed was the culprit. She simply knew that whenever she had the opportunity to engage various tribal members she encountered along her route in serious conversations, she felt as if they were feeding her a bunch of baloney! Adding insult to injury was the fact too many of them wanted a tip for the time and conversation they shared with her. Complicating her thirst for knowledge regarding the American Indians was her lack of interest in hearing the viewpoints of academics. She wanted input directly from those who actually lived the life.

Thank goodness, there had been a few bright moments making the trip worthwhile. She guessed they were the reasons she was still driven to continue her search. However, hopes for finding more of them were rapidly diminishing as she was running out of time.

After putting her car into park and shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight pouring through her windshield, she sat and surveyed the scene before her. Her face fell. She could tell from afar this village wasn’t going to be any different from others she had visited along her route. Beads, pottery, jewelry, leather goods, and lots of eagle feathers filled her vision. Too often she’d been told by vendors in similar villages she had stopped at that their fathers, mothers, or another family relative, had made an item. And too often, Ashley felt it had probably been made in China or Mexico.

She could understand her disappointment in the villages. Commercialism, in her humble opinion, was ruining a lot of things. What surprised her was how dispiriting she found the time she spent on numerous reservations. It appeared to her the efforts of the government to rehabilitate adults and mold their children in the image of white children were rapidly destroying their culture. Sadly, the more Ashley looked, the more she felt their heritage was specifically what she was seeking.

It truly was the positive notes of her travels that kept her going—like the many small museums she visited along her route. She enjoyed the history they held and loved the fact each concentrated on the immediate area. The relics displayed in them fascinated her. While she viewed the baskets, jewelry, and pottery, beautifully artistic for the time, she found the items used in the past as tools to be crude and primitive. She found herself wondering how clumsy and ineffective they would have been to work with.

Her route had given her the opportunity to spend time with numerous Tribal Nations: the Navajos, Apache, Shoshone, Cheyenne, and Sioux, to name a few. She was amazed at the similarities, and even more so at the differences that existed amongst the various nations.

Ashley killed the engine and got out of her car. Since she had stopped, she might as well look around. She still had a couple more gifts she wanted to pick up and she never knew when she would luck out and come across something unique. She ambled down one side of the street without entering a single store. She could tell from the cheesy items displayed out front whether she had any interest in going inside to browse around or not. She crossed over the street and began to work her way back down the other side.

Three or four stores down, a blanket displayed just outside a doorway in direct view of the cashier inside caught her eye. The colors were typically bright, but it was the design of a golden eagle in flight with another beneath its wings that pulled her like a magnet. Closer scrutiny revealed the workmanship was exquisite. She flipped up a corner and began searching for a price. A resonant voice broke her thoughts.

If you’re thinking of buying that particular blanket, you’re out of luck. It’s not for sale. I know that little fact because I try to buy it every time I stop here. I keep hoping one of these days I’m going to catch them broke enough they’ll consider my offer.

Well, it’s a shame it’s not for sale, Ashley replied without looking up. The design is captivating, and I can’t get over how beautifully intricate the detail is. It’s one of the better pieces I’ve run across on my entire trip.

That little fact is quite evident. I’ve been watching you shop, and it appears to me the only thing you’ve found interesting here today is this blanket.

You’ve got that right! Ashley replied curtly. Realizing how blunt her response sounded prompted her to turn around and try to temper her words. A tall dark haired, dark skinned, and dark eyed man leaned casually against a post. A half smile played with his face.

I’m sorry, she began contritely. I didn’t mean to sound so negative. It’s simply a case of having stopped at dozens of these villages over the last few months. Whenever I go against my better judgement and pull into a new one to look around, it’s disappointing to discover it’s almost identical to all the others I’ve seen where most of the goods are imported instead of locally made.

Don’t apologize to me, the stranger said as he held a hand out in a defensive gesture. I’m on your side. Like you, I know quality when I see it. And, he thought to himself, I think I’m looking at a fine specimen of the female gender this very moment. However, he continued glibly, if you don’t look, you won’t know what you might have missed. A good example is this blanket.

He pushed himself away from the post he was leaning against and headed in the direction Ashley was going. Come on. I’ll walk with you. I know this village fairly well. If you want, I can steer you to a couple of shops you might find worth your time. You really can’t judge the quality of their goods from what you see displayed out here. In case you haven’t learned by now, very few shops will risk displaying anything of value out front where someone can make off with it. You know, he added pointedly, how thieving Injuns can be. If they see something they want, they just take it—so they say. The last words were laced heavily with sarcasm.

Ashley was taken back by his words and didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t decide if he was serious or jesting. Intuitively, she felt the truth of his statement probably lay somewhere between the beginning and the end of it. What was throwing her for a loop was, unless she was mistaken, he was about as Indian as they came. She fell in beside him.

I really didn’t stop here to shop. I guess since my heart wasn’t in it, that was evident. To be honest, I was hoping to find something else. But, she added dejectedly, it has taken me about three months of traveling to come to the conclusion the reason I can’t find what I’m looking for is because it simply doesn’t exist anymore.

Puzzlement filled the stranger’s face. He continued walking in silence as he pondered her statement. If you aren’t looking for goods, what is it you seek?

Ashley turned and paused before answering his question. Authenticity.

Surprise flooded the Indian’s face. Authenticity? That’s it?

Ashley nodded her head. Yes. Authenticity.

They walked on in silence giving a passing glance at items displayed in front of the small shops they passed. The handsome Indian was the first to break the silence. "What exactly do you mean by authenticity?"

Ashley didn’t hesitate before passionately answering. "The real thing. People who not only look Indian, but people who think, act, and feel Indian. People who are proud enough of their heritage to embrace it instead of running away from it. I guess what I’m really wanting to see would be remnants of an era that has evidently passed us by."

Jade studied the figure beside him and wondered why the interest. It was evident there wasn’t a drop of Indian blood in her. Silken strands of gold streamed down her shoulders and eyes as blue as the sky were intense enough to pierce his soul.

I know why all the interest, he teased. You’re trying to trace the lines of your great-great-grandmother, who was captured by Indians long ago and became the bride of a famous war chief. When she responded to his tease, he was acutely aware his jest had fallen about as flat as a pancake.

I hate to burst your bubble, but you are way off track. I’ve traced my genealogical lines. Much to my dismay, there isn’t a drop of Indian blood in my entire body.

The statement perplexed Jade. Why, he asked earnestly, the disappointment? Why would you want to be part Indian? Many who are would give a right arm to be otherwise. The word half-breed has a rather distasteful inference to it.

To answer your question, Ashley began tentatively, if I were, then maybe I could understand what drove me to begin this wild goose chase I’m on. And why, no matter how hard I try to walk away and leave it behind me, I can’t. I also have a distinct feeling, that whereas it doesn’t have anything thing to do with my past, it has everything to do with my future. She turned to the man beside her.

Do you know how it feels to think your future is waiting for you, but you don’t know where to find it? Or how to even go about looking for it?

Jade chose not to answer her question for it had gone straight to his heart. Yes, he could relate to how she felt. Unlike most people, he had two futures to choose from. And he knew where both were. His dilemma was deciding which he should pursue. The one in the world of the white people promised fame and fortune. The other would allow him to keep the Indian heritage he cherished. What was upsetting was feeling neither alone could bring him happiness. But, no matter how hard he tried, he didn’t seem to be able to merge the two.

Dialogue carried them past the last store without their going into a single one. Both found their conversation more interesting than what they might find in the shops. Jade took Ashley’s elbow and proceeded to guide her towards a nearby wooded area where bystanders had begun to gather and were sitting on grassy mounds. He found a shaded spot and pulled her down beside him. It’s time for the dances to begin. We wouldn’t want to miss them, would we?

Ashley detected a hint of sarcasm in his words and could see laughter behind his eyes. She burst out laughing. By no means!

She was beginning to think the day wasn’t going to be a total loss. Her companion was intelligent, charming, and yes, very attractive. He was nearly six feet tall and his body rippled with well-toned muscles that were pressing against what appeared to Ashley to be a tailored-made shirt. His straight blacker-than-night hair hung to his shoulders in a blunt cut and matched the color of his eyes. His skin reminded her of burnished copper, and though she refrained from doing so, she had a terrible urge to touch it, to see how warm it felt. Ashley was confident he didn’t fall into the category of half-breed. He looked as if he were the real thing. If he will just act like it, she thought to herself, I could be on a roll!

One dance after another, the handsome stranger kept Ashley in stitches as he gave her his interpretations of the dances. When the Dance of the Eagles began, he learned back, crossed his arms, and proceeded to watch in silence.

What! Ashley exclaimed. No running commentary! The cat must have gotten your tongue!

No, not really, he answered gravely. I respect this dance way too much to make light of it. Even though, he added disgustedly, I shouldn’t feel that way about this performance. It’s a very poor interpretation. I’ve had the pleasure, he rolled his eyes at Ashley, of seeing it before. Trust me when I tell you it bears little to no resemblance to the real thing.

I know what you’re talking about, Ashley concurred. If I see one more of these so-called Dance of the Eagles, I think I will pull my hair out by the roots in exasperation.

I guess, he taunted, you know the difference.

Your point is well taken, she conceded. However, she added with conviction, "I do know if I ever see the real thing, I will know it!"

When the dance ended, Ashley rose to her feet and headed towards her car. It had been more than a poor performance. It had been a downright joke! She was fighting the urge to break down and cry out of frustration and didn’t want to in the presence of the stranger.

Without a word, Jade fell in beside her. After a few minutes of silence, he reached out and caught her hand. I’m sorry I’ve been a tease, he began apologetically. I didn’t realize how close this was to your heart. I imagine, he continued on a serious note, I don’t come across as the real thing any more than that dance. I am, though. By birthright, I’m about as full-bloodied Indian as you can get. Tell me why all of this makes you unhappy. Maybe I can make you feel better. You really don’t have anything to lose in giving me a try, do you?

Embarrassedly, Ashley began. I don’t know. It’s so damn complicated! I guess, considering I don’t understand it myself, it’s not fair for me to expect others to. I just wish I could figure out what force is pushing or pulling me in directions I shouldn’t be going.

Jade nodded to a nearby bench under a cottonwood tree and headed towards it. Ashley hesitated for a few seconds before following him. After they sat down, Jade turned his dark eyes on her and asked in genuine concern. How long have you felt this force or pull?

Ashley burst out laughing. I think I was born with it! She paused as she collected her thoughts. She turned to Jade and stated emphatically. "You should know this, but in case you don’t, real Indians have an innate