The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

be blessed for all eternity and that he would watch over it from his place in the afterlife.”

The ranger stopped talking for a moment and looked at the unassuming display, lost in thoughts that drifted through time. “This land we stand upon was considered holy by the Cherokee for thousands of years. Then, in 1838, the American government took it all away. Their lust for Native treasures and land pushed the tribe west to Oklahoma.”

“But the vase remained here?” Tommy slipped the question in during a moment of reflection.

“No,” the reply was vacant. “It was taken to a safe place near here.”

“A safe place?”

“Yes. The nation’s leader, John Ross,” he said, motioning at the wooden representation of the old tribal chief. “Ross knew that the people had been betrayed by some of their own and that soon the United States government would force them to leave their land. So, he took their most sacred relic to the only place he thought it would be safe…a church.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed at the revelation. “A church? I don’t understand. Why didn’t they just take it to Oklahoma?”

The dark-skinned man chuckled under his breath. To him, the answer was obvious. “This vase is as much a part of this land as the trees and the dirt beneath them. It was brought here by a great tribal leader, and here it must stay for all eternity. Even though many traditions were lost through the years and several Euro-American ones were adopted, there are still others that remain and will remain until the end of time.”

“But if the white settlers could not be trusted with this, how did Ross know that he could trust a church full of white people?” It was a good question, assuming it had been a church full of white people.

“There were many people in the United States government as well as average, everyday citizens, who wanted the relocation to happen. No doubt, those people were in the majority. However, there were some who believed it to be a great evil and fought the forced removal with every resource they had. Davy Crockett was one of the most famous to fight against the government removal. It ended up costing him his political career. “But there were also local people who rallied for the Cherokee cause. One of those was the pastor of a nearby church. That place of worship still exists today. It’s called the Beacon Tabernacle. Ross developed a friendship with this preacher over time and grew to trust the man as if they were brothers. In fact, there was a rumor that the reverend had even gone through the blood ceremony to become forever united with his new friend.” The Indian stopped again and looked out through the double doors to make sure no one was waiting at the desk, a move that startled the two Russians momentarily.

Ignoring their jumpiness, he began again while Tommy listened eagerly. “A few days before the federal troops moved in, Ross went to the church. He walked in during a service and presented the jar to his friend. There it was kept for over a century until this park was established. Knowledge of this vase’s importance to the Cherokee was passed down from pastor to pastor. When it was announced that Red Clay would become a protected state park, the then-leader of the church graciously returned the vessel to where he believed to be its proper resting place.”

“So, what happened to the bones of this ruler?”

“The great king’s remains were rumored to have been buried somewhere safe, but the location remains a mystery much like the story itself.”

As fascinating as the whole tale had been, none of it really helped them with the bigger picture of finding the chambers. Tommy couldn’t help but feel like this simple park ranger knew more than he was letting on. But how to get it out of him?

The Indian disrupted his thoughts with a whisper, just loud enough for Tommy’s ear alone to hear, “You shall not find what it is you seek. Though you have come farther than any before, the chamber will remain a secret.”

“What? Why?” He was confused by the sudden confirmation and denial all in one breath.

Ulrich leaned in to hear the exchange between the two men.

The ranger stepped back, resolution in his face. “You are not the one the prophecy foretold would lead us home.” His finger extended toward the now-angry-looking blond man. “You will not find the chamber. Only death awaits you and your allies.”

Pulling his gun from his jacket, Ulrich stood in front of the man and pressed the Glock to his forehead. He’d heard enough. “Tell me where the chamber is, fool, and perhaps I will spare your life.”

A sick grin came upon the reddish-brown face. It was followed by a deep, slow laugh, becoming faster and louder until the entire hall was filled with the eerie sound. “Death is no threat to me. The location of the chamber will only be revealed to the pure of heart. Your heart is black as the night. I can see it in your eyes. It cannot be yours.”

Tommy tried to intervene and stepped toward Ulrich. “Jens, don’t do this! He’s the only one that can help us. If you kill him, then we will never find the chamber. We need him.”

The blond cocked his head slightly. “Hmm. Really?” Then, with a matter-of-fact look, he turned his attention back to the park ranger. “Well, if dying doesn’t change your mind, perhaps pain will.” A split second later, he had lowered the weapon to the ranger’s leg. The loud recoil rang throughout the museum walls.

What had