Tim was staying at a friend’s cabin located halfway between Little River and K-Trail. K-Trail is a trail or primitive road that has been used by indigenous peoples and animals for centuries, maybe thousands of years. It runs from Clayton, Oklahoma to Mena, Arkansas. It’s about a three-day drive with good weather and a 4×4. You can go from Clayton to Mena and never cross a paved road except to cross to the other side in two places – The Indian Highway and Highway 259 at the Three Sticks Monument. This trail lies in the heart of the Kiamichi Mountains. These mountains were at one time taller than the Rockies according to geologists and the only mountain range in the United States that runs from East to West. The Kiamichi and Ouachita mountains come together and make up this mountain range in Southeast Oklahoma and Southwest Arkansas. In these mountains, you are a long way from commercial enterprises; fuel stations and hospitals, electricity and water plants are only located in the River Valley. The cabin where Tim was staying had a little solar generator to run the well pump, a wood stove for a cold night, and a propane cook stove.After Tim’s visit with Miss Cherie he went back to the cabin and began to study topographical maps from recent printings and a few, older yellowed maps that looked as if they had been around for at least one hundred years. He looked across the mountains into the blue sky and tried to imagine what it was like one hundred and fifty years ago. Today, it appeared much as it had one-hundred and fifty years ago. Much of the timber had been cut and regrown but other than that, not much change. Tim’s next lead to the lost gold was pointing to a certain spot on Little River. He decided to follow-up on his lead, while he pondered the warnings Miss Cherie had so passionately laid down before him. He parked his truck on Panther Creek, an off shoot of Little River and made his way east, going upriver.After several hours of hiking and checking coordinates on a map, he found himself on the opposite side of the river from Miss Cherie’s shack. He did not realize that his lead would bring him this way, but he paused and studied the shack with the leaning porch. He pulled out his binoculars and took a closer look. He panned over to the barn and mused over the buggy which was beautiful and ornate. It looked like a genuine Model 1800’s buggy from the New Orleans area. He studied the grey horse in the corral behind the barn. It had a striking resemblance to the paintings and old photographs of Traveler, General Robert E. Lee’s horse. He pulled the binoculars down and shook his head as he squinted one eyebrow in puzzlement of the whole place. He kept moving along the riverbank, looking for signs of items that could have been placed there over one hundred years ago. As he came around a sharp bend in the river, he stopped to rest under a huge, walnut tree. Most of these old trees had been cut out of the valley around the first part of the 1900s by the Singer Sewing Machine Company. They had crews of men cutting these walnut trees to make the wooden cabinets for their pedal-type sewing machines. As he leaned against the old tree and looked up the river, he saw movement at the edge of the river. He pulled his binoculars up and saw Miss Cherie. She was barefoot and had her skirt pulled up to her knees. She had a burlap sack tied around her wrist. As she waded deeper into the rocky river, she pulled her skirt up to her thighs. Tim gazed at a pair of legs that would be the envy of any Vegas showgirl. He noticed a small tattoo on her left thigh, but she waded deeper into the water before he could make out what it was. She waded up and down the river for thirty minutes, reaching into the water and putting something into the sack. He couldn’t determine what she was gathering from the water. Her beauty was mesmerizing and losing track of time, he stood quietly and watched her every movement. Suddenly, Miss Cherie stopped and stood still in ankle-deep water and began to cautiously look around. Her movement ceased and she looked directly at Tim as though she could see him through her own binoculars. Tim knew he was well-concealed but felt he had just been discovered by his person of interest. He knew from his military training that you are supposed to look past your target and not at them. It is a proven fact that a person can feel someone looking at them. He dropped his binoculars and they dangled around his neck as he backed away quickly and returned to his hiking trail. Her stare had shaken him, but he didn’t know why. It was a look from her that insinuated, “How dare you spy on me?” He returned to his cabin and pondered the warnings, the maps and Miss Cherie for one more day. Then he arrived at his final decision.Monday morning, Tim headed toward Miss Cherie’s shack. As he entered her front yard, he began to look all around as he didn’t want to suffer another “sneak attack” again. He paused and studied the medicine wheel before he stopped onto the porch and knocked three times. Miss Cherie opened the door and said with a bit of sarcasm, “Well, hello darlin’, long time, no see.”Tim gave a nervous smile and greeting, “Hello, is it too early to talk business?”“No, come on in. I’m fixing breakfast, would you like some?” Miss Cherie asked.“It smells wonderful, how can I say,‘No’,” Tim replied as he leaned his head back and waved in the aroma of bacon, eggs, and biscuits. Miss Cherie had some blues music playing on an old phonograph. It was Muddy Waters’ “Hoochie Coochie Man.” Miss Cherie set two, fine china plates and antique silver tableware on the old kitchen table along with linen napkins.“Coffee?” she asked“Love some!” Tim replied. “Wow, I don’t know if I’m just tired of eating my own cooking or if yours is just really dynamic,” Tim confessed.“I like to think that mine is just really, really good,” Miss Cherie added.“I believe you’re right!” Tim agreed. “This coffee is absolutely wonderful!” Tim exclaimed as Miss Cherie put the old percolator coffee pot back on the stove.“100% Columbian, I grind it myself with grandma’s old hand grinder,” Miss Cherie informed him as she spooned scrambled eggs mixed with some kind of greens onto his plate and added a side of crispy bacon and two biscuits.“Ahh…this smells heavenly! But what is mixed with the eggs?” Tim asked hesitantly.“That is poke salat greens, wild onions, fresh garlic, salt, and lots of black pepper. I have Louisiana Hot sauce if you need some. I like a splash of it on my eggs,” Miss Cherie told him.“Isn’t poke salat poisonous and wild onions look similar to crow poison…don’t you have to be sure what you’re picking?” Tim asked her as he looked at the plate that was emitting an enticing aroma. He was poised with fork in hand but hesitant to take a bite. All the while, he was being overpowered by his nose and senses commanding him to chow down.Miss Cherie placed both hands on her hips and arched her eyebrows as she gave her reply, “Do you actually think that I don’t know the difference in crow poison and wild onions? And poke salat is poisonous, you have to boil it three times before you eat it!”Tim gave a quick apology, “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to question your cooking or your knowledge of plants uh…weeds…uh, any vegetation.” He picked at it with his fork and ate a piece of bacon until Miss Cherie had taken several bites of the scrambled egg concoction. After one taste, Tim was out of control. He wolfed down the eggs. He finished his breakfast with a homemade, buttered biscuit and some black strap molasses and another cut of coffee.“Wow, I don’t think I have ever had a breakfast this delightful!” Tim exclaimed.“Maybe it’s the mountain air that makes you so hungry,” Miss Cherie suggested.“No, ma’am, it’s definitely your cooking ability. WOW! that’s all I can say,” Tim stated as he continued to praise Miss Cherie’s cooking.“Well, thank you very much, that’s very sweet of you to say. I have had many years of practice,” Miss Cherie informed him. As she cleared the table, Tim affirmed that he was ready to commit to a deal no matter the price or cost. He would stand firm and pay the price, no matter the cost.“Are you sure…really sure?” Miss Cherie asked one last time.“Yes!” Tim reaffirmed.“Ok, let’s get started” Miss Cherie said calmly. She sat across the table from Tim and the box of sand appeared again. She reached inside and took a handful of sand and scattered it over the table. “Place both hands on the table,” she instructed. Tim placed his hands on the table. Miss Cherie retrieved a jar from a shelf in the corner. Inside the jar was a petrified, dried-up monkey’s foot. She took the monkey’s foot from the jar as Tim with a puzzled expression watched. She held the monkey’s foot in her right hand and asked one more time, “Are you sure you want to do this?”“Yes, yes, just get on with it already,” Tim said impatiently. Clarise began to jump around crazily in her cage and began her monkey screams like something was trying to get her. Then Miss Cherie, with one lightening quick swipe, scratched Tim on the left cheek with the monkey’s foot. Tim jumped up from his chair and yelled, “What the hell are you doing? I’m going to get an infection; you don’t know where that things been!”“Sit Down!” Miss Cherie commanded. Tim was holding his cheek and checking his hand for blood. Miss Cherie retrieved a bottle of alcohol and some cotton balls. “Here, clean your face. You would not have agreed if I had told you what I was going to do, now would you?” she quizzed Tim.“No, I probably wouldn’t!” Tim said in an angry tone.Miss Cherie sat back down across from him and pulled a tooth from the medicine bag around her neck. “What’s that?” Tim asked while he dabbed his face with alcohol.“This is a black cat’s tooth, and I need to prick your finger with it,” Miss Cherie told him.“Ok, just clean it with some alcohol first, please,” Tim instructed. Miss Cherie cleaned the tooth as Tim requested and then pricked his right index finger as he grimaced in pain. She squeezed a little blood from his finger onto the sand. Then she got up and went over to a dark corner and came back with a gallon glass jar containing a rattlesnake.“Alright, what’s that for?” Tim asked.“You need to let this snakebite you on the hand or arm,” Miss Cherie instructed very calmly.“You have got to be crazy!” Tim exclaimed. “That’s suicide, why would I do something like that?” Tim continued to rant. “Maybe I made a mistake, maybe we need to call this whole thing off, because I’m not going to intentionally let a rattlesnake bite me—that’s CRAZY!”As he was ranting, Miss Cherie was unscrewing the lid and saying, “We can’t stop now, it’s already in motion. You affirmed many times that this what you wanted.”“Yes, but I didn’t know that it would involve a rattlesnake bite!” Tim yelled.Suddenly, from behind Tim, two large hairy arms put him in a bear hug and then one huge, hairy hand took his left arm and stuck it into the jar with the rattlesnake while Tim screamed like a girl. The snake struck his forearm and Miss Cherie grabbed the snake behind the head before it turned loose. She said, “We have to make sure you get plenty of venom in your veins.” She pulled the fangs from Tim’s arm, took the snake outside and turned it loose. The rattler slithered angrily toward the outhouse where rocks were piled around the bottom of the building. Tim was bleeding and screaming, the blood was puddling up in the sand. Tim tried to squirm around and get a look at his captor. It was no use; Claude had a death grip on him. “I need a doctor, an ambulance, a hospital, a helicopter, something…I’m gonna die!!!!!” Tim pleaded.“You’re not going to die, I promise.” Miss Cherie assured him.Tim’s eyes fluttered and the room began to spin. Claude sat him in the chair immediately before Tim passed out and face-planted on the table. “Wow, I hope that doesn’t leave a bruise, he has a pretty face.” Miss Cherie said.Tim came to his senses just in time to see Miss Cherie set some jars on the table and begin to mix each ingredient with the blood and sand mixture. One jar was labeled, “BCP (Bear Claw Powdered)” and another jar was labeled, “BBP (Bear Brian Powdered)” another, “BHP (Bear Heart Powdered)” and a jar of bear hair. She mixed all this with the blood and sand until she had a thick paste, which she covered with two, eagle feathers and began to sing and speak words that Tim had never heard before. As she spoke and sang, the table began to reveal its symbols and signs again, each one glowing like a fire brand. Tim didn’t know if he was hallucinating, or if this was real. Miss Cherie stopped speaking and singing, and the table calmed to a light glow and then returned to its rustic, everyday appearance. Miss Cherie took the blood and sand mixture and put it in a leather medicine bag and hung it around Tim’s neck.Tim was still begging for a doctor, except now his speech was slurred and he sounded like a drunkard who needed to be “cut off” at the bar. “Please, please, I need a doctor or a nurse or a band aid or something,” Tim slowly mumbled. Miss Cherie sat a cup of tea in front of Tim and sprinkled a pinch of something in it as she stirred it with a cattail from the local swampy marsh, wetlands or whatever you call them in Oklahoma. Tim woozily drank it all down and then fell from his chair onto the floor. Miss Cherie spread a blanket on the front porch, a genuine Navajo blanket, made two hundred years ago by a Navajo medicine man. “Claude, please carry him to the porch and lay him on the blanket,” Miss Cherie politely requested.Claude laid Tim on the blanket and Miss Cherie put a pillow under his head. The pillow was made by her grandmother, who lived in New Orleans, and it was stuffed with goose down. She covered him with an Indian patterned blanket made in China. She brought a small can from the kitchen and began to smear its contents onto Tim’s face. “What’s that?” Claude asked, as he curiously watched. “Bear grease,” Miss Cherie replied. “It’ll keep the mosquitos off his face. He’s going to be asleep for three days,” Miss Cherie informed Claude. Miss Cherie put the small can of bear grease in her apron pocket and turning to Claude asked, “Pie, Claude?”“Yes, please,” Claude responded with his usual glow of happiness.“Go out back, and I’ll get the pie.” Claude took his place beside the hickory stump as usual. Miss Cherie came out the back door with two saucers of pie and two napkins.“You going to eat pie with me?” Claude asked excitedly.“Yes, Claude. Your special pie for you and some blackberry pie for me,” Miss Cherie explained. The Bigfoot people do not have facial expressions, but Miss Cherie could have sworn that Claude was smiling while he ate his pie. As Claude ate, he told Miss Cherie, “That man is trying to balance, like walking on a log.”“What are you talking about Claude? I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me,” Miss Cherie told him.“He is trying to balance between good and bad; he leans one way and then leans the other way, always about to fall, but not committed to good or evil. He takes from whichever one will keep him on the log.” Claude tried to explain in his Sasquatch voice with his Sasquatchy analogy.“What makes you think this?” Miss Cherie asked.“I could read his thoughts as I held him,” Claude explained.“You could read his thoughts?” Miss Cherie questioned in a concerned tone. She wondered if Claude had read her thoughts and discovered her secret about the pie.“Yes, I read his thoughts,” Claude repeated calmly.“Can you read my thoughts?” Miss Cherie inquired.“No, I must touch you to read your thoughts, and you must be close to unconsciousness or nearly asleep. You always touch me; I never touch you,” Claude continued to explain. Miss Cherie was relieved to hear this.“Well Claude, you’ve never told me about your special abilities before,” Miss Cherie pointed out.“You never asked me,” Claude stated as he scraped his fork on the saucer to get the last, little bit of pie.“Well, I guess I need to inquire more often about your personal life,” Miss Cherie went on to confess.“Personal life?” Claude asked as he handed her his saucer and fork.“Yes, you know…things about you, what you like besides pie and things you enjoy doing,” Miss Cherie explained.As Miss Cherie and Claude conversed about their lack of personal knowledge of one another, Tim was laying on the front porch with shallow breathing and a heartbeat that would make an undertaker excited. As his breathing slowed and his heartbeat weakened, he drifted into another world and another time. He found himself standing on a ridge above a valley looking down at a river. The wind was cool and blowing in his face. He could see a storm coming down the valley, lightening and rain was coming from a black, rolling cloud. As he watched the storm and felt the spray of rain blow across his face, he heard a voice from behind him. “You must come with me,” it whispered. As he turned around to see who it was, he was face-to-face with a huge, black bear. This bear was standing on all four feet and almost eyelevel with Tim. The bear spoke again, “You must come with me; we don’t have much time.” “Oh…wow, I must be dreaming,” Tim said aloud to himself. “No dream, Treasure Hunter,” the bear said. “Follow me.” Then he turned and started up the mountain. Tim followed as he was instructed. The storm blew and the thunder rolled as they made their way up the mountain on a well-worn trail. They journeyed past towering pine trees and huge boulders and rock outcroppings.Fog and mist rolled through the pines and made everything drip. It was difficult to keep pace with the huge bear, but Tim trudged forward. The trail leveled and Tim could tell that they were on the top of the mountain range. On the trail ahead, he could see someone standing perfectly still. The low clouds whistled through the trees. As they got closer, the fog dissipated and the figure he saw, turned into an eight-foot tall man covered with reddish-brown hair. His face, hands, and feet were hairless. His dark eyes had no pupils and his brow was that of a Neanderthal with high cheek bones and a bulbous nose. The hair on his head hung down long onto his shoulders and down his back with a wisp of grey hair on the left side of his head. He stood treelike, unmoving, unblinking as they approached him. The bear stopped ten feet away from the hairy stranger, looked at Tim and said, “This is Skookum, he will guide you to what you seek.” “OK,” Tim said with uncertainty. Skookum looked at Tim and said in a gravelly voice,“Try to keep up treasure seeker.”“Yes sir, I will,” Tim replied shakily.Skookum turned and began to lead the unusual trio down the trail and deeper into the mountains. As Tim followed, he felt as though he had been here before. After what seemed like several hours, the clouds rolled away, and the sun broke through.These mountains and everything in them were beautiful in the sunlight. The ferns that grew along the trail gave it a prehistoric aura. They passed a high rock formation that was shaped like a giant cougar’s head. Tim had seen this before. He was trying to make mental notes of any landmark that he thought might help him. He didn’t know why he was doing this. He didn’t know where he was going or how long it would take, but he was too scared to ask. Skookum turned to his right and headed down the side of the mountain past a jagged rim of rock and into a crevasse which was totally hidden by the forest until you walked close to its edge. As they started their descent into the earth’s crevasse, the bear stopped and said, “This is where I leave you, Treasure Hunter, we will meet again.” Then the bear turned and disappeared among the fauna and foliage of the mountain. “The rocks are loose, watch where you reach and step as rattlesnakes live here,” Skookum told Tim. “Yes, Sir!” Tim replied, as he became more attentive and paranoid with every step. Skookum looked over his shoulder to observe his follower’s progress. They traveled deeper and deeper into the earth until the light of day was nearly gone. Tim stopped when it became so dim, he couldn’t see the next step. “Skookum, I…I can’t see,” Tim exclaimed as everything went black. Magically a glow suddenly appears a few feet in front of him. Skookum was rubbing together two crystals that were the size of a plug of tobacco. As he rubbed the crystals together, they began to glow and radiate a flash of light like a giant lightening bug. Skookum handed them to Tim and then turned and continued his descent. Tim used the crystals to continue his journey behind Skookum. The crevasse turned into a cave and then they came to a Y in the cavern. Skookum turned right into the smaller passageway. “What’s down there?” Tim asked as he aimed a crystal toward the larger passage. Skookum spun around and approached Tim. “No human is allowed any further than this passageway. If you live to return here, remember that. Do not venture in that direction, it is sacred to my people,” Skookum offered a calm, clear warning.After two-hundred yards down the smaller passage, Skookum stopped and pointed to the wall of the cave. As Tim lifted his crystals toward the wall, he could see what appeared to be a vein of gold three-feet wide, extending ten feet from the cave floor to the ceiling. Tim vigorously rubbed the crystals together again until they were glowing so brightly that their reflection made the gold shimmer. Tim put both crystals in one hand and touched the wall with the other. He looked as though he was praying to the wall. “This is what you seek?” Skookum asked. “Yes, I guess it is,” Tim answered.“I have stood in lost cities of the Amazon. I have dived shipwrecks for treasure off the Florida coast and the Gulf of Mexico. I have filmed documentaries on the black-market ivory trade, sloshed gold in Alaska and Brazil. I have a nugget as big as a quail egg from South America. But I have never, ever seen anything like this. I wish I had a way to take some of this with me,” Tim said as he felt around in his pockets for any sign of a tool to use for a pick.“You can take nothing from this world with you,” Skookum told Tim.“From this world…where am I?” Tim asked.“You are where you are,” Skookum said.“What mountains are these, where are we?” Tim queried again.“We are where my people have always been. We were here before the Choctaw people. We were here when what you call the dinosaurs were here,” Skookum told him.“How do I get back here?” Tim asked.“That is for you to figure out, not me,” Skookum replied calmly. “You humans! Always wanting and looking for things! Yahweh provides for me and my people. Everything around us, everything we need,” Skookum said firmly.“Yahweh?” Tim asked. “Yahweh, as in God?” Tim asked again.“Yes, the same God that made you, made me and when my people die, we return to Yahweh,” Skookum explained.“So, you know who God is and believe in heaven?” Tim looked away from the wall and starred at Skookum.“Yes, we did not rebel against God, we are a natural people. We must go now.” Skookum turned and headed back the way he had come. Tim took a few more minutes to caress the wall like a lover who dreaded break his embrace. Then he hurried along after Skookum who already had a head start. As they came to the main entrance and began their ascent, Tim glanced back at the dark, deep passage that he had been warned to not venture into.. . .As Tim’s other worldly adventure was taking place, Miss Cherie was hitching up her big, grey horse, Rambler, to her buggy. She was dressed in the most conservative outfit she owned. The high-necked collar and long sleeves were both tightly buttoned. It was late September, and the evening air gave a cool promise of the fall to come. Miss Cherie gave Rambler a gentle slap with the reins and headed to the ice cream social at the church.Harold was having a cheeseburger and fries with Cali Ann at the store. He had a mixture of emotions running through his mind. He was happy about his dinner date but concerned for what the evening held in store after the Voodoo Queen made her appearance at the church. Harold and Cali Ann finished their burgers and headed over to the church. Under a huge oak tree in the churchyard, members had set-up tables where they had placed ice cream freezers which ranged from hand-cranked freezers that were 50-years old to the new-fangled, electric freezers that turned under their own power. The freezers held every flavor of homemade ice cream imaginable. Lots of folks had gathered for the homemade, heavenly treat. Of course, Mrs. Williams was there with her homemade, peach ice cream and two watermelons from her garden. As everyone assembled to start serving the ice cream, it appeared there was one person missing—Miss Cherie. For a few fleeting moments, Harold thought he had dodged a bullet. It looked like Miss Cherie wasn’t coming. Then he heard a clip-clop, clip-clop sound coming from down the road. Miss Cherie pulled up in the church parking lot and tied her buggy to the hitching post. (Yes, there are still hitching posts in some parts of the country). Everyone stopped and stared as Miss Cherie gracefully walked toward the crowd and smiled. “Well, hello everyone,” Miss Cherie said.Harold stepped from the crowd and cleared his throat as he nervously introduced his guest. “Uh…uh…uh, everyone, this is Miss Cherie Won-Fon-Tain. I invited her to our ice cream social.” Several “hellos” echoed from the crowd. “Come on over and get in line,” Harold told Miss Cherie as he put his hand on her back and guided her to the tables.As the ice cream was served and the melons cut, everyone was talking and visiting. Harold and Cali Ann were involved in conversation by the old well. Cali Ann’s mother approached them and stopped next to Harold and whispered in his ear, “I think it was very nice of you to invite Miss Won-fon-tain to our social.” Harold’s face lit up with glee. “Thank you, Mrs. Baker,” Harold replied. He was relieved to hear this, but still wasn’t sure what everyone else thought. He could see that Miss Cherie had seized the opportunity to talk to Mrs. Williams. “Mrs. Williams, I hear that you are the best pastry chef in these mountains,” Miss Cherie flattered.“Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” Mrs. Williams demurred.“Well, I know you are! I have heard all about your pastries and the blue ribbons they’ve been awarded at the county fair, the selling of them for church fundraisers and helping the school children with cooking projects.” Miss Cherie continued to flatter Mrs. Williams. Mrs. Williams blushed and looked down at her bowl of ice cream. “Well, I do what I can to help people, and I have had a lot of practice cooking, been doing it all my life” Mrs. Williams said.“I really need to buy some of your party pastries for some special friends of mine,” Miss Cherie explained.“Well, I really don’t sell anything that I make except for fundraisers,” Mrs. Williams confessed.“Well consider this as a fundraiser for you,” Miss Cherie said. “I need about four dozen.”“Four dozen?” Mrs. Williams repeated.“Yes, how much to bake four dozen?” Miss Cherie inquired.“Well…I don’t know; I need to buy ingredients and I would need to figure it all up,” Mrs. Williams said with a little bit of surprise in her voice.Miss Cherie opened her pocketbook, handed Mrs. Williams two hundred dollars, and said, “Here, maybe this will get you started. Let me know if you need more.”“Oh my, this is more than enough!” Mrs. Williams said excitedly.“Great, no hurry, whenever you have time.” Miss Cherie told her.The ice cream social was coming to an end and everyone was abuzz with chatter about the Voodoo woman. Miss Cherie was the first to leave. She bid everyone, ”Good Night” and thanked them for having her. She then thanked Harold with a handshake, climbed aboard her buggy and disappeared into the fading evening light as she headed back toward her shack on Little River.. . .As Tim and Skookum came back to the Earth’s surface, the sun was setting in the West at the close of the day. They ventured back up the mountain and onto the high trail across the top of the mountain’s range. As they walked, the sun sank behind the green mountains in a smoky blue haze. The moon appeared and the stars were so bright and seemed so close he thought about reaching up and trying to touch them. The moon had a silver, yellow-tinted glow that followed along with them as they walked. The full moon was so bright that it was like daylight in the woods. As Tim tried to keep pace with Skookum, he would look at his arm and see that the fang marks were still there. No redness, no bruises, no swelling, just two holes in his arm.They made their way back to the ridge where Tim had encountered the bear. They worked their way down the ridge to the valley below. Tim could see what he thought to be cattle grazing in the valley. As they got closer to the cattle, he realized they were buffalo. Skookum was walking straight toward the big bull. Tim slowed down and considered going around the bison instead of walking through the middle of them. As Skookum approached the bull buffalo, he greeted him “Halito Yannash.”The bull returned the greeting, “Halito Skookum.” Skookum spoke some other Choctaw words with which Tim was not familiar, and Yannash turned and blew through his nose at Tim and pawed the ground. Tim froze, he didn’t know what to do, run or stand still, and probably get trampled either way. Skookum spoke more unknown words to Yannash and then motioned for Tim to come closer. Tim reluctantly walked closer. “Yannash will take you back to the place of rebirth,” Skookum told Tim.“Place of rebirth?” Tim questioned.“Yes, you were born into a new world like a baby. Now, you return to where you came from,” Skookum said as he walked away.“Put your hand on my horn and walk with me,” the big bull said to Tim. Tim did as he was told and walked with Yannash with one hand on his horn. They went upriver, walking through the meadows and pastures by moonlight. The stars and moon gave an even stranger feel to the whole experience, but he loved it. As they came to a place on the river where the creeks merged, Yannash stopped. “The river runs from east to west. Do you see the creek running into the river coming from the North? And do you see the creek running into the river coming from the South?” Yannash asked.“Yes” Tim replied.“This is a special place where three waters meet,” Yannash explained. “You must wade into the middle of the river where the three waters meet,” Yannash instructed. Tim turned loose of the big bull’s horn and began to wade into the river. The middle of the river was about waist deep. The three waters merged and swirled around him. “Ok, what now?” Tim asked the bovine.“Now, Lusa will lead you back to the other side,” Yannash said as he changed directions and sauntered back downriver. Tim stood in the frigid water, and his teeth began to chatter. From behind him came a voice “lay down in the water.” Tim turned to see who it was on the other side of the river and saw it was the big black bear that had led him to Skookum. “Your name is Lusa?” Tim asked. “Yes, Lusa,” replied the bear. “Now lay down in the water, time is running out!” Tim laid back in the water and tried to relax. As his feet came up, he began to slowly spin with the current. He was looking at the moon and stars as he slowly swirled with the water. All the sudden, Lusa was beside him, standing on his hind legs. Lusa came down on Tim’s chest with his huge front paws and plunged Tim below the water. Tim tried to struggle but couldn’t move, it was like he was paralyzed. He tried to hold his breath, but it was no use. As water filled his lungs, he looked up at the full moon through the clear, cold water. Then, everything went gray.Tim awoke, choking and fighting for air, flaying and swinging his arms. He sat straight up and then fell off the porch. He looked up and saw Miss Cherie was sitting on the porch in a rocking chair. She held a bundle of gently smoking sage in one hand which she waved back and forth in front of her. The other hand held a tall glass of iced tea. Tim tried to speak, but he could only cough. Miss Cherie handed him the glass of tea which he immediately gulped down. “How long have I been asleep?” Tim squeaked.“Three days,” Miss Cherie answered.“Three days!?” Tim repeated.“Yes, three days,” Miss Cherie confirmed. Tim’s hair was sticking up all over his head which made him look like a troll doll. Miss Cherie giggled a little at his appearance. Tim thought he was hearing things or was still dreaming. She left and brought back another glass of tea. Tim downed it as quickly as she handed it to him. He stood up, looked around and then headed to the outhouse in a dead run.In a few minutes, Tim returned to the front porch rubbing his eyes and face. “Oh man…I feel like I have the worst hangover that anyone has ever had. It’s my worst hangover times ten!” Tim exclaimed.“You’ve been sweating and running a high fever for three days…you’re dehydrated,” Miss Cherie explained.“My vision is blurry, and my head is aching like someone is inside, pounding with a sledgehammer,” Tim said as he held both sides of his head and applied pressure trying to offset the pain. “I was poisoned by an African witch doctor one time and I didn’t feel this bad. He continued to complain, “I don’t care if I die or get better, either one would be a relief,” Tim continued ranting and squeezing his head.Miss Cherie rose and opened the front door. “Come in and take a bath. I will fix you something to eat.” She motioned to Tim to follow her. “That rattlesnake headed toward the outhouse when I turned him loose, I’m glad you didn’t run into him, again. The next time you are bit, you may not live,” she said as she followed Tim into the shack. Tim quit squeezing his head for a few seconds and stared at Miss Cherie. He wanted to ask some questions about the pain in his head, but his blurry vision was not allowing him to focus on conversation.Miss Cherie lead him to another door, opened it and turned on the light. Tim couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The bathroom had white marble tiles with a white porcelain, clawfoot bathtub with brass fixtures. The commode and sink were so elegant that he thought he had stepped into a ten-star hotel in New Orleans. Tim stood still and looked all around him; he was amazed. He forgot about his pounding headache for just a few more seconds. “What in the…I can’t believe this, am I still dreaming?” Tim asked. “I didn’t think you had electricity,” Tim said.“I have a generator and solar power when I want to use it. It runs my well pump and washing machine, but most of the time I prefer my kerosene lamps and a pump for water. But I enjoy a long, hot bath every day and a woman needs an elegant bathroom. Besides, it reminds me of New Orleans,” she explained. “Throw out your clothes to me and I will wash them. My washing machine is broken, but my new one is supposed to be here today. I have some clothes you can wear that will fit you. They are a bit out-of-fashion, but they will do for now,” she instructed.Tim undressed and left the door cracked open just enough to hand his sweaty clothes to Miss Cherie. At the same time, she handed him a glass of greenish-looking liquid. “What’s this?” Tim asked.“It’s pickle juice and it will help you to feel better,” Miss Cherie replied. Tim sipped the pickle juice and looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed the greasy film on his face. It did not smell very good. He went back to the door and shouted to Miss Cherie, “Something is wrong with my face. It’s slick, greasy, and smells bad. Is it an ill effect of the snakebite?”“No, that’s bear grease, it keeps the mosquitoes away,” Miss Cherie assured him.“Oh, ok,” Tim said as he walked over to the elegant bathtub and began to fill it with hot water. While Tim soaked and sipped his pickle juice, he tried to remember everything that had happened and any landmarks that might help in his quest.Miss Cherie went over to a closet and drug out a huge, antique trunk. It looked like it should be strapped to the top of a stagecoach. She opened the trunk and in among some old photographs, little girls’ dresses, a letter of appreciation from General Robert E. Lee, and a confederate Navy revolver, were some men’s clothes and a shaving kit that looked like they were from the late 1940s. She laid out the clothes and the shaving kit. She put the trunk back into the closet.“I have clothes and a shaving kit when you get ready for them,” Miss Cherie shouted through the door.“Great! Thank you, very much,” Tim replied. A few minutes later, Tim opened the door and retrieved the items Miss Cherie had laid there for him. He examined the clothes as he unfolded them. He had not expected this. They looked brand new, but from a different era. He puzzled over where they had come from and why she had them. He laid the clothes aside and began to open the shaving kit. It was a straight razor, a camel hairbrush, and shaving soap. It was a very nice set with a mirror and a small razor strap. Tim had used a straight razor before but wasn’t sure how good this was going to work today, considering the way he felt. As he began to shave, another face appeared in his mirror. A man with handsome features much like his own, but with dark hair and a mustache. He resembled Clark Gable in Gone With The Wind! Tim dropped the razor. Then the stranger began to speak, “Be sure of what you really want from life. Know what is truly important. Look deep within yourself. Be careful how you choose.” Then, it was gone. Tim rubbed the fog from the mirror and rubbed his eyes. “Clark Gable just spoke to me!” he thought to himself. “This is getting stranger, and stranger,” he spoke his thoughts aloud this time.As Tim stepped out of the bathroom in his antiquated attire, Miss Cherie was taken back to another time in her life as she studied his appearance. The only reason she agreed to help him was because he reminded her of a love interest she had not seen or heard from since before she came to the mountains. He was a gambler whom she met in New Orleans in the late 1940s. They had a whirlwind romance for a year, then he left for Europe to play in several high stakes’ poker games. He would be gone for eight to twelve months and begged Miss Cherie to go with him. She declined. They wrote letters every week to one another, then six months into the trip the letters stopped. Her letters were returned. She wrote more letters and made some overseas phone calls. She discovered that no one knew where he was. After traveling through different parts of war-torn Europe, he landed in Scotland. He was staying at an old inn not far from a castle that was the home of the host for the next card game. One evening, right before dark, he went for a walk into the countryside. He was never seen or heard from again. They searched for two weeks, in every glen and craig and bog. There was no sign of him, it was as though he had vanished into thin air. They did find a bracelet made of human hair and adorned with genuine turquoise beads. Miss Cherie had made this from her hair and given it to him. His belongings were sent back to her as he had no family. She grieved and missed him terribly. That’s the odd thing about Voodoo, all of the spells, potions and charms that help other people will not work for you. Her grandmother had told her this a long time ago when she was a little girl. “There are a few things that you can do for yourself, but they are limited,” she also told her. Miss Cherie’s great grandfather was a Choctaw medicine man. That’s how she became part of the Choctaw Nation. He also served in the Confederate Army as did most all the tribes in the Oklahoma and Indian territory. She combined his teachings with that of her grandmother and had come up with different powers and magic than anything that had been seen in South Louisiana. People still called it, “Voodoo”. She came to the mountains of the Nations seeking peace for her heart and mind. She found it. The mountains and rivers seem to have a natural healing affect and after a couple of years she felt much, much better about herself and the world around her. This was important as she had more to heal than the loss of a lover. She once had a daughter. The father was the fiancé who had disappeared in the swamp after running away with Clarise. Miss Cherie did not discover she was pregnant until after she had done away with the man who had betrayed her.The baby was born, a little girl she named Eugenia Victoria Won-Fon-Taine. She brought great joy to Miss Cherie. Eugenia was the center of her affection. Then one day, when Eugenia was twelve, she paddled her perow boat into the swamp as she had done many times before. This time a severe storm rolled in with forty mph winds and rain. Miss Cherie and her cousins searched the swamp, looking for Eugenia but only found her perow. They searched desperately for weeks to no avail. They had a funeral and built a small tomb not far from Marie Laveau, her great aunt’s final resting place. For weeks on end, week after week Miss Cherie would go and sit at the tomb and weep. Her whole world had crumbled, she didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep, she didn’t practice her Voodoo. One day she cried until she passed out at the tomb. A gambler passed by on his way to the tomb of Marie Laveau. He had planned to leave a token of some sort in hopes of getting some favor and good luck. When he passed the tomb of Eugenia and saw Miss Cherie laying there, unconscious, he stopped and gathered her up in his arms and took her to his car. He was on his way to the hospital with her when she awoke. “Where am I, who are you?” she asked.“I am Nathan F. Pershing, and I am taking you to the hospital. I found you unconscious at the cemetery,” he explained. And from there, one thing led to another and the romance began after a couple of weeks of getting to know one another. Nathan wined and dined her every night, trying to help her forget her sorrows and erase her pain. They fell deeply in love. Now, she found herself here, staring at a flesh and blood ghost of her past. His hair was a different color, but all the facial features and the height were identical. The same hazel eyes that sometimes turned green depending on his mood. She dropped the plate she was holding as she stared at Tim.“Miss Cherie, are you ok?” Tim asked.“Yes, Yes, I’m fine,” Miss Cherie said as she grabbed the broom and swept up the glass. She handed Tim a pair of socks and some custom, handmade, black cowboy boots, with the initials N.F.P. embroidered on the leather uppers. Tim slipped them on, and they were a perfect fit.Miss Cherie set the table with her fine china and served the always pleasing and enticing chicken tortilla soup. They sat and ate without talking. Tim’s mind was reeling from everything that had taken place and now he was wondering about the clothes. Miss Cherie ate her soup and relived the time she and Nathan had spent together.After they finished their soup and the table was cleared, Miss Cherie cut two pieces of her special pie, placed them on two, fine china saucers, took two, linen napkins and hung them over her arm. She headed out the front door and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes; my new washing machine should arrive any minute.” As she walked down the wagon road, she heard a truck pull up and set its air brakes at the signs. As she strolled out into the opening where vehicles parked, she could see two delivery men standing by their truck and looking at the sign.“Hello, boys,” Miss Cherie greeted them with pie in hand.“Where are we supposed to unload this washing machine?” one of them asked.“Oh, don’t worry about that right now, just have some pie.” Miss Cherie told them as she shoved the delightful smelling treat under their noses.“Wow, this shure’ smells good,” the first delivery man said.“Oh man, this shure’ taste good!” the other one said as he gobbled his portion down. Within seconds, both delivery men were fed and under Miss Cherie’s powers. She smiled and batted her eyes, then she took out a tube of bright red lipstick and a small mirror. She put on the lipstick and admired its color in the mirror. She then strolled very slowly and very sexily past the two guys and said, “Boys if you would unload the washing machine and follow me, I will show you where to put it.They unloaded the washing machine and rolled it on a hand truck for a mile down the wagon road, following Miss Cherie like two, little lambs. They installed it and hauled off the old one, smiling while they did it and waving like Miss America as they exited the yard and disappeared down the wagon road.Miss Cherie threw Tim’s clothes in the new machine and said, “Well, let’s try this thing out.”