All my life, Mama had talked about the Cherokee Nation as our ace in the hole. She'd had an old grandpa that was full-blooded Cherokee, one of the few that got left behind in Tennessee because he was too old or too ornery to get marched over to Oklahoma. Mama would say, "If we run out of luck we can always go live on the Cherokee Nation." She and I both had enough blood to qualify. According to Mama, if you're one-eighth or more they let you in. She called this our "head rights." (1.61)
Alice and Taylor get a certain satisfaction from claiming their Cherokee heritage, but neither woman really understands what it would mean to call themselves Cherokee, or get themselves officially enrolled. For both of them, Alice Stamper's Cherokee grandpa is nearly a mythic figure: they know enough to claim his blood, but not his culture.
