Searching for Sallie BlueJacket

Wednesday morning three intrepid explorers (intrepid sounds better than three over-the-hill wanderers) started for Oklahoma. We, Virginia, Kathy and I, were in search of Sallie Bluejacket. Virginia wrote a story about Sallie, who was a Cherokee Indian. She needed a picture to go with the story. Since Sallie is deceased, we decided the best place to look for her was in the cemetery. Sallie's maiden name being Bluejacket, where else would we look for her grave but Bluejacket, Oklahoma?

So, fearlessly into Vinita we went, turned on Route 2, then Route 25 and there it was, the town of Bluejacket. But where is the cemetery? Being women, we immediately stopped to ask for directions. A kindly senior citizen whose ancestors, no doubt, had roamed the Oklahoma hills for many years, gave us tentative directions. We all know if a man were driving we would still be wandering around the town fruitlessly searching for a cemetery.

We found the Bluejacket cemetery and plunged into the task of finding one stone among many. The wind was sharp but we were dedicated. Hey, we found it and took several pictures. The conversation went something like this: "I'll get a picture." "I want one too." "Now take a picture of me with the stone." "Oh, wait, the wind blew my hair in my eyes." "OK. I'll take another." In the process, Virginia dropped her folder containing information about Sallie and her family. The wind picked up the pages and blew them hither and yon. Virginia, in pursuit of her precious papers, gave chase. Everytime she started to pick up a page, the wind blew it a bit further. Kathy and I just stood back and laughed (and took pictures). Was the mischievious spirit of Sallie Bluejacket playing with us?

Feeling successful, we decided to look for Sallie's father's grave stone. Charles Bluejacket was a prominent Methodist minister in the area. A picture from the internet showed a white stone with a pointed top. Standing together, studying the picture, we intrepid explorers discussed among ourselves that the stone must be like that one right over there not far from us. Of course, where could it be? Could it be that stone? Now feeling rather foolish, we discerned that yes we had found Charles Bluejacket's grave stone (literally right under our noses).

The excitement over we drove back to Vinita and drove ten miles west when we only needed to go two miles west to the rustic restuarant, Cowboy Junction. The deco of Cowboy Junction is a feast for the antique lover's eye. The food was delicious. The restuarant is operated in conjunction with the Cowboy Church located in the same building.

Tired, stuffed and successful in our adventure, the intrepid explorers returned to Springfield, vowing, "That was fun. Let's do it again soon."