The Mystery of the Tomahawk Pipe

The wagon rounded a bend in the lane and they approached a small log cabin. The path dead-ended right before it. The cabin sat on the edge of a high bluff, overlooking the Tippecanoe River. A cliff rose behind it and along one side, protecting it from the north and east. Cotton woods shaded the cabin, their leaves flickering in the breeze that rolled off the river and up the bluffs.

“Be-zone, akotha,” Joseph called from the wagon bench. He set the brake, wrapped the reins loosely around the brake handle, and jumped down from the wagon.

Billy Mac looked, and for the first time he noticed a small man sitting on a bench in the shade at one corner of the cabin. He was dressed in an old flannel shirt that hung loose on his small frame. His dungarees ended above his ankles and he wore no shoes. His long, gray hair was tied in the back so that it fell down his back. His ancient face was that of brown, wrinkled leather.

“Be-zone, peshewa,” the old man replied with slow deliberation. “And be-zone to the hileni and kweewa that accompany thee.” He nodded to others.

Joseph motioned to them. “May I present my friends Emmett, Billy Mac, and Maddie Miller. She is the granddaughter of Doctor Miller, whom you know.”

Joseph then motioned toward the old man. “My friends, allow me to introduce Askuwheteau, an elder and chief among the People.”

Billy Mac smiled and nodded, not quite sure what to do with the formal introductions. He and Emmett stood up from the back of the wagon bed and walked over to stand with Joseph. Maddie, however, stepped down from the wagon, walked over to the old man, and with a feint curtsy said, “Be-zone, Askuwheteau. It is an honor.”

“And by what name do we call the wii’si?” Askuwheteau asked and motioned toward the wagon bed.

“Oh!” cried Maddie. “Here, boy!” She clapped her hands and the retriever bounded from the wagon. “This is Boomer, my companion for as long as I can remember.”

Askuwheteau reached out a wrinkled hand to let Boomer get his scent. “Yes, we shall be good friends, won’t we wii’si?” He patted the dog’s head. “And of your father.” He looked at Joseph. “How fares Topeah?”

“Very well, thank you,” replied Joseph. He sat on the bench next to the old man. “Akotha,” he continued, “my friends would seek your council on matters.”

“My council?” the old man repeated. He nodded his consent. “Then you must all come and sit.”

Emmett nudged Billy Mac and nodded toward a bench on the opposite corner of the cabin. They picked it up and carried it back to sit across from Askuwheteau. Maddie sat down next to them.

“What council would you seek from an old man?” Askuwheteau addressed them with a smile. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a wooden pipe and a bag of tobacco.

“Emmett,” Joseph said, “why don’t you start with what you found in Doctor Miller’s old cabin?”

Emmett explained how they happened across the cabin, caused the felling of the chimney, and discovered the room behind the hearth.

Billy Mac told him about the map drawing they found and the markings on it, and Maddie explained the story that her grandfather told them about the gold and how he had searched for it as a boy. She concluded in sharing her grandfather’s opinion that the gold wasn’t there any longer—if it ever existed at all.

Billy Mac studied the old man. Do you know anything? Would you tell us if you did? Through the briefing Askuwheteau had sat in contemplative silence, nodding from time to time. When Maddie finished, the silence continued for a moment. Finally, the old man spoke. “And the other matter you would seek council on? You mentioned yet another?”

Billy Mac squirmed. He looked at his friends. He clenched his jaw, not sure how to start.

“Well, sir,” he said, “I-I get the feeling that sometimes when we’ve been searching Doc’s farm we’re being watched.”

He looked at Maddie. She tilted her head and squinted at him to tell the rest.

“And that maybe whoever it is could be a-a ghost that wanders around in that area.” He looked at Emmett, who nodded his head once and then jerked his head toward the old Indian, prodding him to go on. Billy Mac continued. “We . . . I wonder if it could be the spirit of the old chief that was treated by Doc’s father so many years ago, that first told him the story of the buried gold. Perhaps his spirit remains to guard over it.” He finished and grimaced. He looked at Joseph who gave him a nod of approval.

The cottonwood leaves rustled and the smoke from Askuwheteau’s pipe circled and rose into the trees. The cicada’s droned higher and then dropped off.

“I see,” Askuwheteau said. Then he sat in silence and drew slowly on his pipe. “I see,” he repeated. He took a stick, poked at the fixings in the pipe, and then turned it over and tapped it on the bench so that the spent ashes fell to the ground. “And you would seek my council? You wonder if there is truth to these matters?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Billy Mac answered.

Askuwheteau pulled the tobacco bag from his shirt pocket again and filled the pipe. When he finished, he looked up. “Yes. There is truth to the tale of the gold, yet none know all there is to know except myself.” He nodded toward Billy Mac. “And you are wise to believe in the spirits of those gone before. Even when others would not.” He looked at Emmett and Maddie. “For some have a purpose in their life that continues in their death.”

“You, akotha?” Joseph asked. “How is it that you should know of such things, of the gold, of things none of the other elders know?”