“But not what you would make.”
She shook her head. “It is a beautiful place. I just don't see much point in it.”
He nodded. Had he too come to see that the way their peoples viewed these things was quite different? “I'll be sure to pass your compliments on to the gardener. And to my mother.”
Adsila’s heartbeat quickened. And her breathing became fast. “You wouldn't dare!”
He reached forth and took her hand, chuckling. “Of course not. I'm only teasing.”
Letting out a breath, she allowed herself to relax. Then she turned her attention to the feel of her skin against his. She longed for him to take her in his arms and…
She became aware that they stood only a few feet away from the large window overlooking the gardens from the family parlor. Someone might see them!
Pulling on her hand, she attempted to free herself from his grasp.
“What's wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed.
“Have you lost your senses? Someone will see!”
“I think, dearest Adsila, that it doesn't matter if they do.”
Was he out of his mind? What would their parents think? She was not ready to face them. Would his parents accept her as his choice? Would her parents think her out of her mind? Too much had transpired. The removals, the awkwardness between the two families, the fact that their relationship would be to the disapproval of their families… it was too much.
“Thomas, I'm not ready for your parents to find out… I…”
“They know.” His features were set, calm. How was he so calm?
“What?”
They confronted me yesterday. They know. And I think we're deluding ourselves if we think that your parents haven't figured out.”
All of a sudden, she struggled to breathe. There wasn’t space in her lungs for the air she needed. No, not now. She fought down the wave of panic threatening to overtake her. Breathing in and out slowly, she normalized the rhythm of her respirations.
Could it be true? Could they already know? Why would they remain silent? But she knew why. Because it was a dangerous relationship, but they loved their daughter and didn't want to see her hurt. Besides, what could they say to her?
Wanting to hide her emotions, she looked away until she could push them down.
He gripped both her shoulders, turning her toward himself. “Don't shut me out,” he said softly.
She looked at him and made no further effort to hide the tears that came.
He stepped closer and wiped at the trails the tears made. “Please, tell me.”
“It's everything. My parents… this is a life they cannot lead. No matter how hard they try. They are not made for this. We are simple people.”
“This,” he said, waving an arm, “is only for a little while. We can find a small farm somewhere and settle there.”
“It's more than that. This place, this house, even these gardens… they’re a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“A reminder that they escaped. That they… we abandoned our people.”
“But you didn’t. You only did what you had to in order to protect your family.”
Her face contorted. “And it's chipping away at their souls! I can feel it!”
His features softened. “Because it's chipping away at yours, too, isn't it?”
She nodded. “You don't understand. It's bigger than us. Much bigger. It's about our people.”
He pulled her closer. Enough so that his forehead rested on hers. “But I have to keep you safe. I cannot risk what might happen if we go back.”
She ran hands up his arms. “What about my people? I don't think we can live with ourselves if we abandon them for good.”
He pulled back. “I don't understand. You'd rather die with your people, than live free?”
Adsila searched his eyes. She desperately wanted to say, no, to tell him that she wanted to be with him… wherever he was.
But it wasn't true.
While she may want to be with him, she could not do so by turning her back on her people.
Returning to Cherokee land would probably lead to nothing but heartache and tribulation for her family, they needed to face it with their people. To stand and fight with all they had in them… together. And together suffer their fate.
“It's not what I want, Thomas. Please understand that. It's what I have to do.”
He looked at the ground for several seconds. Was he so conflicted? By what? Did he struggle between his care for her and his attachment to his parents? Or was it the risk of what awaited them in Georgia? In all truthfulness, they would not be treated well. They may be returning only to die.
But when he raised his face to hers, he was resolved. “Then I will go with you.”
****
Theodore Frelinghuysen sat at his desk, a war within him. Hadn’t he known where he stood on this issue? He had. And he stood firm.
Only now he wasn’t so certain. After his encounter with Chief John Ross… now having made the personal acquaintance of a Cherokee, he wanted to protect his friend.
It didn’t change his belief about the necessity of the things he had done. He would fight against the Indian Removal Act just the same if given the opportunity.
But could he support them to stay and fight in the face of such risk to their lives? He grimaced. How had he been so blind?
Was it possible to convince his friend to see reason? His people must go. And must do so peaceably. Chief Ross had to know nothing would be gained by standing their ground. Only loss.
He grabbed for paper. Leaning forward, he dabbed the quill in ink. The tip hovered over the parchment for a few seconds as he hesitated.
Why? Did he question the criticality of his action? Or the letter’s reception?
It mattered not. Whether or not Ross looked kindly upon the senator’s words did not change the need for him to write them. To do something. To try.
'Dear Chief Ross'
There, he had started. But how was he to broach this subject? He wished to remain cordial, though he took the side opposing Ross on this matter.
'I hope this letter finds you and your family well. How are things on Cherokee lands?'
Balling up the paper, he then tossed it toward the waste bin. Such nonsense. Nothing would be gained with small talk. Ross and his people were in an emergency situation. They had no time for fine words of no import. He must say what he needed. Nothing more, nothing less.
'Dear Chief Ross, Please know I write this with a friendly hand. But I must implore you, once again, to consider a peaceable solution to the impending confrontation with the U.S. Army. It is coming. Of that, we can be assured. It may have reached your ears by the time you receive this, but I will share of the recent peaceable relocation of the first group of Chickasaws.
‘Mr. John M. Milliard led the relocation effort. The Chickasaws were gathered in Memphis, Tennessee, on July fourth with all their assets and led across the Mississippi River without incident. They then merged with the Choctaw Nation and, as I know it, are living well—free from the problems they experienced previously in Arkansas.
'Do not read this and think that I have decided to support Indian removal. I continue to be as loud a voice as possible against such atrocity. But I see what lies before you. The army has been handed down orders to assist with relocations. And I daresay state militias will be assembled to also assist in the efforts. There may be thousands of soldiers on your doorsteps within the year.
‘Please, listen to reason. For the sake of your people, consider a peaceful relocation.
‘Sincerely, Senator Theodore Frelinghuysen'
Frelinghuysen pushed the paper away and moved a hand across his face. Was this what he intended to say? Or was there more?
No, he wanted… needed to be as concise as possible while expressing his support and concern for their safety.
He reread the words. Yes, they best suited what he wished to convey.
Folding the letter, he slid
it into an envelope and sealed it.
Then, laying his hands over it, he said a brief prayer that it would find a reasonable man in Chief Ross.
****
Lillian Greyson sat alone in her family's parlor. Years upon years of happy memories lay within these four walls. Voices echoed within the confines of the room as the scenes of holidays and grand evenings past unfolded in her mind’s eye. Her children were always center stage. None more so than her vibrant, fun-loving Thomas.
But he was no longer a child. And no longer willing to remain safely in her embrace.
No, he refused to find contentment with her any longer. His future, as far as he was concerned, lay with the red-skinned girl. The one who, even now, prepared to take him away once again and walk him directly into the mouth of danger.
Lillian didn't try to stop the angry tears.
The door creaked, but she made no move to wipe her tears nor make herself presentable. She didn't care.
After some long moments of silence, she glanced toward the opening.
The silhouette of her husband stood in the doorway. “Lillian?”
“Yes?” Her voice broke.
“Why are you in here alone? In the dark no less?”
She looked away. He wouldn’t understand.
He let out a breath. And a grunt.
Yes, frustrated. She could have guessed as much.
“Surely, we must go to Thomas. He can't be serious!”
She tucked her hands into the folds of her skirt. No, he didn’t understand. Thomas was quite serious. What use was there in trying?
“Why are you moping about?” Arthur ground out. “Come now, we must talk sense into him.”
She shifted her head, looking back toward her husband. “He will not stay.”
“He must at least listen to reason,” Arthur said firmly.
“You know, as well as I do, that he will follow his heart.” Her words were spoken softly, and she watched as he drew near.
“Come now. Let us go together. We must stand united. Or do you wish him to go?”
Her mouth dropped, and she furrowed her brows. “Wish him to go? How can you say that? Of course, I don’t! But this… this girl… she has bewitched him.” She searched Arthur’s eyes.
The reflection of his emotions there surprised her. Or had her words taken him aback?
She jerked away. “He believes this is his calling. And he will follow it to the bitter end.” She choked on the last word.
“You can't think like that.” His voice was strained. Was he becoming so impatient? She cared not. He would do well to tread carefully.
She leaned forward, almost nose to nose with him. “I know it's true! His mind is made. His heart is set. And there's nothing I can do to change it.”
“I won’t give up that easily. I refuse.” Arthur backed away from her and straightened his jacket. “He's my son, too. And I will not stand by and watch him march to his own demise.” Arthur's voice rose.
A knock sounded on the already opened door. Arthur whirled around and she shifted to see around her husband.
Thomas stood, tall and well postured in the pressing light. How long had he been there?
“I've come to say farewell.”
She longed to rush to him, pull him into her embrace and refuse to let go. Even if he wouldn’t allow it, she would keep him safe from the harsh world he insisted on facing headfirst.
“Thomas,” Arthur began, “Let's talk for a moment.” He indicated an empty seat nearby.
“I'm sorry, Father. But I’ve decided. I must go where God leads.”
“Surely God would not want to put you in harm's way.” Arthur held up his hands.
“Nothing in Scripture leads me to believe that His plan will necessarily keep me safe.”
Arthur blinked.
“Listen… just for a few moments.” She hoped he might agree to a levelheaded conversation. Perhaps they could speak truth then. “We just want to talk.”
“But I don't wish to have a heated discussion and leave with high, tense emotions. Please, let us part like this.”
“Your mother and I are rather concerned—” Arthur started.
“I understand. And I would be surprised if you weren't. But you have to let me go.”
“So, you can chase after this—” Arthur’s voice rose once more.
She thanked God that Arthur bit his tongue and didn’t finish that sentence.
Thomas’s eyes darkened.
Then Arthur spoke again. “We can and will do everything in our power to keep you safe!”
Thomas sighed. His features lightened. Had he given up on this discussion? “What will you do?”
“I forbid you to go.” Arthur’s face reddened.
No! He hadn’t said that. She stood and rushed between her husband and son, but Arthur waved her off, moving her to the side.
“But you see, Father, I am going. You can’t stop me.” Thomas took a step toward the door.
“If you walk out that door…” Arthur stumbled over his words. “So help me, you may not walk back through it!”
She wasn’t hearing this. A cry escaped her throat. Couldn’t Arthur take back what he had said? Yes, that would make it all right. Turning toward her husband, she shook her head and raised a hand to him.
“That is your choice. I must make mine.” With that, Thomas nodded to her and then to his father one last time and made his way out.
Lillian couldn’t move. This could not be happening. Her son had just removed himself from her home. Where would he belong now?
****
Something weighed on Thomas. But what? Adsila heard him and his parents speaking loud words to each other the day they had all left the Greysons’ home in Charlotte. Even from the foyer, she and her parents had overheard the vocal exchange. But what had led to such anger or the words flung, she did not know. What had upset them?
She slid a hand to set on his.
He flipped his hand to capture hers and offered a weak smile.
Perhaps that was all he had to give.
He sighed. A deep, heavy sigh.
How she wished she could take some of the weight he carried!
Looking at their hands clasped on his knee, she noted how different they appeared. Her small brown one lay secure in his larger white one. She did feel secure with him.
Though this train carried them closer to an uncertain destiny, she felt more at peace and more in her place than ever before.
Yes, she would face her fate with her people and with Thomas by her side.
“Thomas,” she said, mindful of her volume. Her parents need not hear, but she must be loud enough to be discernible above the train’s movements.
He arched a brow. A signal to continue?
“Thank you.” It surprised her when her voice caught with emotion.
“For what?” His brows furrowed. Was he so unaware?
“For rescuing me. For understanding. For taking me home. For coming with me. And… for telling me about Jesus.” At the mention of His name, she became all too aware that her parents faced an uncertain fate without the security she had in Jesus.
How was she to tell them? To help them believe?
They were so stuck in the old ways…
Thomas squeezed her hand. “I would do anything for you.” His voice had a deep, husky quality.
It was true. He loved her that much. But did she love him back? She turned it over in her mind. But it was too much for her heart to comprehend. Too much clouded her thoughts to discern anything with clarity.
The conductor's booming voice broke through her musings as he announced their impending arrival at the next station.
From there, they would take a stagecoach. Then home.
“Thomas,” Adsila said, licking her lips. A great urgency pressed into her chest.
He turned more of his body toward her. She had his full attention.
“My family—Father, Mother, Tsiyi… they have not accepted Jesus.”
<
br /> Thomas's mouth became a thin line. He nodded but waited. Did he wish her to continue?
“We must tell them about salvation. I cannot face what awaits us at home not knowing if they…”
He placed his other hand on top of hers already in his warm grasp. “We will. I promise we will tell them.”
Something washed over her. Peace?
With Thomas’s support, her chances of convincing them were better. Maybe.
Lord, be with us. Help us find the words. Help them see the truth. Help them see You.
She opened her eyes and looked at Thomas.
He, too, was in prayer. There was a tug in her core. Was his heart so turned by her parents' and brother's need for salvation? Warmth spread through her chest—a feeling that had become more familiar.
Was this love?
She couldn’t be sure.
Her body pulled forward as the train started to slow, and a loud screech filled her ears as the great machine entered its station.
She turned her attention forward and gripped Thomas’s hand even tighter. He pressed back.
They would have to release each other soon, but she would enjoy this simple contact for each second that she had.
****
Richard Clement wasn’t an Army soldier but a carpenter by trade. That's what he knew. Not this. Not the army. Joining the state militia had been something he did because it was his duty. Or so he believed. Now he found himself in the middle of this business with the Indians. How had this not already been resolved? Wasn't this in the news years ago? And then it went away? Yet here he was, called up from his home and humble woodworking to bring final settlement to this Indian issue.
Oh, he had known there were still problems in Georgia with the Indians and their land. But who was to say who was right? He didn't know. His competence lay in saws and nails, not socioeconomic matters.
He wasn't even sure he knew what 'socioeconomic' meant.
No, it was best to leave that to the people who knew more about it.
Buttoning his uniform, he readied for morning troop inspection. He supposed he should be thankful it was springtime and the weather had been pleasant enough for camping. How dreadful it would be to have to do this in the dead of winter!
Just thinking of it made him shiver.
Trail 0f Fears (Native American Heritage) Page 15
