No Direction Home is a dramatic action adventure inspired by a true story. An all-American Indian boy leaves the backwoods of the Smokey Mountains and moves with his family to Southern California. Maturing into a gifted athlete and a musician, he runs afoul of his traditional fathers values. Joining the marine corps, he goes to Vietnam, thriving in an environment of killing fields. Severely wounded, he returns to SoCal after two combat tours. The marine corps reassigns him as a weapons instructor in Quantico, Virginia. The CIA recruits him for a clandestine operation in Mexico. He assassinates some bad guys then remains undercover to gather data on the escalating drug war. Organizing flights of tons of marijuana and documenting the web of conspiracies, he amasses a fortune but is eventually betrayed by his CIA contacts. Moving through Columbia, Mexico, and the western United States, he eludes capture and survives against fearsome odds. No Direction Home By Sagonige Uwohili AuthorHouse Copyright © 2018 Sagonige Uwohili All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5462-4842-2 CHAPTER 1 Summer, 1977 – North Carolina Shining his penlight into the darkness underneath Old Eagle's cabin, Rocky Crooked Toes started his low crawl as quiet as the Indian he was. There was a soft light glowing from an old oil lamp burning in the center of Old Eagle's cabin. It was hard to imagine that anyone was still up at that hour, but Old Eagle was well known for his midnight rendezvous with Grandmother Moon. Lifting sage and cedar smoke in his prayers was now taking on a more regimented routine. According to Dolly, ever since he discovered a new medicine stored under their cabin, he had been howling at the moon on a regular basis. Most of the time, however, all he ever seemed to do was grunt approval after devouring his meals. Dolly had been pleased to hear from her sons when they called to inform her of their impending arrival from Arizona. She loved to cook for them, and listen to their stories about all the places they had been. Red Bear and his brother had chosen to come up to their parent's cabin at the early morning hour of two a.m. They wanted to get the sea bags that were stashed underneath before their parents woke up. Rocky Crooked Toes was now well up under his father's cabin. Red Bear, on his hands and knees, waited at the little trap door. He could see Rocky's penlight making a 360-degree sweep of the crawl space where Rocky said he had stashed the bags. "What's up, Bro, you see 'em?" whispered Red Bear. The light went out and Crooked Toes crawled back towards the trap door. Rolling over on his back, Rocky looked up into his brother's eyes. Beneath a million stars, he proclaimed, "They ain't there!" "What the fuck you mean, they ain't there?" "Just what I said. Help me out of here." Red Bear took Rocky's outstretched hand and pulled him the rest of the way out through the trap door. "Man, there's only one person who would go up under there, and we both know who that is." Just then a whirling whiff of smoke circled their heads. "You smell that?" whispered Red Bear. "Yeah, and it's coming from inside," proclaimed Rocky. Walking around to the front door of Old Eagle's cabin, the aroma of sweet smelling marijuana permeated their senses. "I don't believe it," said Red Bear, peeping into the window. There sat Old Eagle in the middle of the floor, surrounded with stacks of money, a smoking pipe in his hand, and newspapers laid out in front of him, with bundles of sweet red buds everywhere. "Come on in, boys, I've been expecting you. I guess you know you can't keep anything from your old father." Entering the cabin, the boys stared at their father, sitting half naked under his prayer blanket, red eyed, a big shit-eating grin on his face. "I'm rich, boys, and ya'll have made it right on time. Now, that's what I call Indian time, ya'll know what I mean? As you boys can certainly see, I have been blessed with more money than I've ever seen in one place, and this smoke is the best medicine I have ever smoked. Here," he said, holding out the pipe to them. Red Bear took it and drew a few puffs, then passed it to Rocky. "Where did you get all these blessings from?" asked Red Bear, as Rocky blew out a thick cloud of smoke. "Funny you should ask such a question, since both of you were just up under my house looking for some yourselves. Come on, boys, help your old Father count all his money. Every time I start counting I fall asleep, there's so much of it." "How can you sit there and say this is your money, Father?" asked Red Bear. "Well, if it is not my money, then whose money might it be?" asked Old Eagle. "It's mine!" declared Red Bear. "Wait just a minute here, whose house is this?" asked Old Eagle. "Just answer me that question." "Why yours, Father." "That's right. This is my house! Now tell me, my son, why are you now so concerned about what has clearly been established as belonging to me?" "I'll tell you why I'm so con