by Debbie Dadey
Mama could be dying. Maybe she had fallen out of bed and was calling for me. What if she died, thinking I had left her? What if she died because I had waited too long to go for help? I darted between two cedar trees and jumped over a log. Mama needed help. That was all I could think about right then.
“Ow!” My foot landed sideways and I tumbled to the ground. A sharp pain tore through my ankle. “No!” I shouted. “I’ve got to hurry. Mama needs me!” But when I stood up, my leg gave way. I landed on the log. “I’ve got to help Mama!” I began crawling. Rocks tore at my fingers and knees as I inched along. Tears filled my eyes because now I knew it would take me all afternoon to reach help. Luckily, help found me.
“Allie,” Leaf said, staring down at me, “are you pretending to be a wild boar?”
I wasn’t in the mood for Leaf’s jokes, but I was glad to see her. “Help me!” I cried, looking up at her. “I’m hurt and Mama’s sick.”
Leaf stopped smiling and pulled me up. With my arm around her shoulder, I hopped all the way to the store.
“Elisi,” I yelled when we burst into the store. “Please help!”
Elisi caught me up in her arms. “What is it?” she asked.
I fought back the sobs. “Mama’s bleeding and she’s burning with fever.”
“Is your papa there?” Elisi asked, smoothing back my hair.
I shook my head. “Mama said not to get him. But she’s so sick and she’s moaning something awful.” By now tears covered my face and more were falling. I didn’t care if Elisi thought I was a baby to cry. I just wanted her help.
Elisi calmly shooed the store’s only customer out the wooden door while grabbing her leather pouch from its peg on the wall. Leaf wound my ankle tightly in a rag. Then she helped me follow Elisi out of the store and into the woods.
My ankle felt a little better, but even with Leaf’s help, I could barely keep up with Elisi. Her bare feet moved quickly under her long red skirt. I knew Mama would be in good hands soon. Many people came to the store for Elisi’s help.
We walked in silence, even when we crossed the swamp. Elisi pointed to a snake upstream and we quickly scrambled onto the bank. It seemed to take forever to walk through the woods. Finally we came to the clearing.
My hand trembled on the latch to the cabin door. As awful as they’d been, I wanted desperately to hear Mama’s moans. But instead there was an empty silence. I said a prayer and opened the door.
5
The Baby
“Mama? Are you all right?”
There was no answer. The house was as quiet as the graveyard. In the dim light of the bedroom, Mama lay motionless on the bed. Blood had soaked bright red spots on the old quilts.
“Mama!” I grabbed her shoulders and shook. “Please wake up!”
Elisi pulled me away and touched Mama’s limp hand. “Leaf,” she said, “take Allie and build up the fire. Then go strip some birch bark and find some moss.”
Leaf nodded and pulled me out of the bedroom. I shook all over. It felt as if a huge tree had fallen on my chest. “Is . . . Is she dead?” I managed to ask.
Leaf shook her head. “No, she is alive or we would not need the bark and moss. Elisi will do everything she can.”
“I hope it’s enough,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without Mama.”
“You would be strong,” Leaf said firmly. “You would be strong,” she repeated. “Now, come.”
I didn’t want to leave Mama again, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I helped Leaf carry in firewood, then showed her the moss by the spring. We each carried a skirtful back up to the cabin.
In the woods Leaf found the tree she wanted. She used her knife to cut five long strips of bark.
“What does Elisi want with bark?” I asked.
“We will chop it up,” Leaf told me, “and make a tea.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think Mama is in the mood for tea.”
“It is like medicine, silly,” Leaf said. “The tea helps with cramping and pain.”
“Oh.” I nodded and ran for a fresh bucket of water while Leaf brought the bark. I didn’t say anything while we made the tea, but all the time I worried. What if Elisi couldn’t help? Maybe I should have gone for Papa. He’d never forgive me if something happened.
I started praying as I’d never prayed before. I stirred the tea and begged for God’s help. For Mama. For the baby.
God must’ve looked down on our little cabin and had mercy, because when I took the tea to Mama, her face had some color.
“Is she all right?” I whispered.
Elisi took me into the other room. “She has lost a lot of blood. But she should be fine if she takes care of herself.”
A horrible thought filled my mind. I hated to ask, but I had to know. “What about the baby?”
“The baby is fine.” Elisi put her strong arms around me and pulled me close. “But she still could lose it. You and your papa must help her rest.” Snuggled in her strong, powdery-smelling arms, I felt safe. I wanted to stay there. But Elisi pulled away and patted my head. “You must be strong,” she told me. “She needs you.”
“Papa will be home soon,” I told her, trying to be brave although I didn’t feel that way at all.
Elisi held my hand between her two strong brown ones. I noticed that spots of red clung to her white apron. “Your mama is asleep,” she said. “Let her rest. And make her a drink of my tea every day.” Then she and Leaf walked down the steps. They were already in the woods before I thought about thanking them.
When they disappeared behind some maple trees, the sun barely lit the sky. I hugged myself to ward off the evening chill. The cold kept me awake. I was plenty tired from everything that had happened. I wanted to sleep too, but Papa would be home soon. I had just enough time to warm some cornmeal mush for his supper.
I was waiting on the steps when he walked up.
“Hello, Allie, my girl!”
“Papa!” I threw my arms around his big shoulders. “Mama!” was all I could say.
Papa pushed me aside and bolted into the cabin with his boots still on. Through the open bedroom door I saw him kneeling beside the bed, holding Mama’s small hand in his. I heard him talking softly to her. Mama was still asleep, so he pulled a quilt up under her chin, then quietly closed the door.
Papa looked the way he had when Hannah had died. “Is the baby all right?” he asked.
“The baby is fine,” I rushed to tell him. “Mama just needs lots of rest.”
Papa rubbed his forehead with his big, rough hand and pushed back a lock of red hair. “I told her she’s been working too hard. What happened?”
I ladled up two heaping plates of mush and set them on the table with some hard biscuits left from breakfast. I should have been helping Mama more—then maybe none of this would have happened. If she hadn’t had to yell for me to come home . . . If I had been there when the Cherokees had come, maybe they wouldn’t have scared her so. So many ifs.
“I was down at the spring when I heard shouting,” I whispered. “I rushed back and Mama was lying on the porch. Some Cherokees were acting crazy, riding around the yard on their horses.”
“They might have killed her! Tom Eldridge warned me that something was up with the Indians and I didn’t listen.” Papa threw another log on the fire. He threw it so hard, sparks flew onto the hearth. “Why didn’t you come get me?”
I choked back a sob. I couldn’t stand for Papa to be mad at me. “Mama told me not to. She didn’t want to worry you.”
Papa looked at me and said in a quieter voice, “It was a good thing you were here to help. But next time you see a stranger or your mama gets to feeling poorly, come get me.”
“Yes, Papa,” I whispered.
Papa rolled up his sleeves and poured water into the basin. As he washed his face and hands, I was glad I’d remembered to fill the pitcher. Seems like I’d hauled enough water to fill an entire well that day, but if it’d sav
e Mama I would’ve carried twice as much.
“We have to help your mama, Allie. She’s delicate,” Papa said, wiping his hands on a rag. I nodded. Papa and I were the tough ones in the family. We hardly ever got sick. Mama was the one we had to worry about.
I pulled Papa’s boots off and set them by the door the way I did every night, taking care to wipe the mud off the toes and the floor. Mama never liked muddy boots on her wooden floor.
“Leaf’s grandmother saved Mama’s life,” I told him when we sat down at the table. “I ran to get her since Mama told me not to bother you. If she hadn’t come, Mama might have died.”
Papa held up his hand. “I’ll take her some roasting ears when I get the crop in.” He ate the warm mush slowly, then looked at me as if he was trying to decide whether he should tell me something.
“I guess you might as well know,” he finally said. “Some fool found gold in the Cherokee territory, and people are crazy to get at it and at the good farmland the Cherokees have. There’s talk of trouble, and throwing the Indians out. I don’t want you getting mixed up in it. Our farm and the Eldridges’ are the closest to the Cherokee territory. We’re easy targets for Indians mad about the trouble.”
“Trouble?” I asked.
Papa nodded and wiped his mouth on his hand. “Government trouble. The Cherokees have been fighting it in the courts for years, but it’s about to catch up with them. There’s bad times ahead for the Indians. You stay clear of that store and your friend.”
“But . . .” How could Papa ask me to stay away from my only friend?
“No buts. You do as I say,” Papa said, pointing his wooden spoon at me. “Besides, Mama will need you to do all the cooking and the washing.” Then his voice softened and he rubbed my head. “We want to get you a baby brother, don’t we?”
“Papa, I promise I’ll help Mama. But please let me see Leaf,” I begged. Papa liked Leaf almost as much as I did. He traded at the Sweetwater store and laughed with Elisi and Cobb. How could he just abandon them like this?
But Papa was firm. “I’ll hear no more about it. You do as I say unless you want a switching.”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded. Papa hardly ever talked switching, so I knew he was serious. But I couldn’t imagine not seeing Leaf.
His hand still on my head, Papa spoke so softly I had to strain to hear him. “I’ve never had anything against Indians—most of them are good enough. The Sweetwaters are fine folks. But I don’t want anything to happen to you. You and your mama are all I have.”
I nodded again, not sure what to say. Papa usually didn’t talk sweet like that. I moved to clear the dishes, limping just a bit on my sore ankle. Papa must have noticed my hobble because he helped me take the plates to Mama’s sink.
In a voice I could barely hear, Papa said, “Allie, you’re my sunshine.” Without another word he went into the bedroom.
Papa hadn’t called me his sunshine since Hannah had died. I was stunned. After I cleaned up the supper dishes, I went out to the barn and polished Papa’s saddle. I rubbed on it until my arms ached and it got too dark to see. I wanted to please Papa more than anything. But I didn’t understand why he had told me to stay away from Leaf. I knew he wasn’t doing it to be mean, but it sure seemed that way. After all, we lived deep in the woods of Georgia, and Leaf was my only friend. Why in the world would the government care if Leaf and I were best friends?
6
Dark Land
The next day I cooked, cleaned, swept, and washed. I fetched fresh water for Mama and brought food to her bed. I warmed up Elisi’s special tea and helped Mama sit up so she could drink it. I brushed Mama’s hair and put it up the way she liked. I didn’t have time to think about my sore ankle. It felt a little better anyway.
Toward afternoon Mama’s face had more color, so I went down to the spring to fill the water bucket. I was so happy Papa had called me his sunshine and Mama was feeling better that I sang “Coming Through the Rye” at the top of my lungs the way I used to do with Papa.
“Hello, singing rock,” Leaf said from behind me.
“Land sakes!” I yelled, brushing spilled water from my dress. “You scared the feathers off me!”
“You are the loudest bird I have ever heard,” Leaf said, giggling.
“The tiredest, too.” I sighed. “But all the hard work is helping. Mama’s looking a lot better.”
“Good,” Leaf said. “It was scary to see her so sick.”
“I thought you were never scared,” I teased.
“Sometimes I am,” Leaf said.
“You never act like it,” I said.
Leaf shrugged and reached down to help me carry the bucket. I pulled the bucket away and shook my head. Leaf looked hurt and I felt bad, but I remembered what Papa had said.
“Papa told me to stay away from you for a while,” I said bluntly, not knowing how else to say it.
“Why?” Leaf asked.
“He said there’s some kind of government trouble.”
“He means the move,” Leaf explained. “I just read about it in The Phoenix. It’s something called the Indian Removal Act.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a law to make Cherokees move west, to the Dark Land,” Leaf told me. “Cobb said they’re already giving some of the People’s land away.”
A strange feeling settled in my stomach. “Will you have to move?” I asked softly.
“Don’t worry,” Leaf said. “The law was passed a long time ago. We do not really have to go.”
I grabbed Leaf’s arm. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. You belong here with me. You’re my friend.” I couldn’t imagine not ever seeing her again.
“Elisi says they are just talking big, like men do. We are staying here. After all, this is our home. It always has been.”
I squeezed her arm tighter. “But what if it’s not just talk?”
Leaf put her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “If they try to take me away, I will splash them with water.”
“I mean it,” I told her, “what if the army really comes?”
Leaf stopped smiling. “I will fight them.”
I could tell Leaf was serious. That made me even more afraid.
“I’d better get home now,” I said. “Mama needs me. I’m sorry, oginalii.”
Leaf touched my shoulder. “I am sorry too, Allie. But you must listen to your papa. I understand.”
I didn’t understand, though. A piece broke off my heart as Leaf walked away. I just hoped whatever kind of trouble it was wouldn’t last long.
Time seemed to stand still after I saw Leaf. I was so busy every second with Mama. At first she wouldn’t eat much. Then I asked Papa to kill a chicken. I plucked it and boiled it for the broth and tender meat. Mama managed to sip some of the broth.
Mama still bled a little sometimes, but I scrubbed the quilts with strong lye soap until most of the red was gone. I hung them on the tree branches to dry. My hands stung from the harsh soap, but I didn’t care. It was worth a little pain to get rid of those stains. They were too much of a memory. A memory of how scared I’d been of losing Mama.
By the end of the week Elisi’s tea was almost gone, but it had done its work. Mama was able to sit up and tell me what needed to be done. I was grateful Mama felt better. I was starting to feel like a chicken that had been penned up for too long. And I missed Leaf.
On Friday Elisi came by with another tea mixture in a small black pot. I wasn’t sure what to do after what Papa had said about staying away from the Cherokees. Should I let her in? How could I not? Elisi had saved Mama’s life. She hugged me tight and I took her into Mama’s bedroom.
Mama sat up in bed, stretching out her hands. “Mrs. Sweetwater, how can I ever thank you for all you’ve done?”
“You would do the same.” Elisi smiled and held up the pot. “I brought some more to help. Allie, would you get fresh water?”
I nodded and went to fetch the water. Sometimes I thought I spent half my life run
ning to that spring. When I got back, I set the water bucket next to the fireplace and started to go into the bedroom, but stopped when I heard what they were talking about.
“My great sadness was my son’s dying,” Elisi said. “Children should outlive their parents.”
“I know. There’s been so much death in our family,” Mama said. I could hear the hurt in her voice, and suddenly I wanted to cry for Hannah, even though she’d been dead for over a year. “This baby must live.
“I will always owe you for your help,” Mama continued. “Someday, somehow, I will repay your kindness. I promise.”
“No need for talk like that. You get well and send Allie if you need me.” Elisi came out of the bedroom and mixed the tea.
“Is Leaf well?” I asked. I wondered if Elisi had any idea how much I missed Leaf.
“Leaf and I keep you in our thoughts,” Elisi said. “Be strong. Your mother will be well soon and I am sure you will be able to see Leaf again soon too.” She gave me a sweet-smelling hug and disappeared into the woods.
Neither Mama nor I mentioned to Papa that Leaf’s grandmother had visited. No sense causing trouble. There was something else I didn’t tell Papa. Or Mama either.
Every morning after Papa left for the fields, I would find a loaf of warm corn bread in a basket by our door. I knew Leaf left it. And I knew she missed me as much as I missed her. It was the Cherokee way to help without expecting thanks. Leaf was not the kind of friend to forget you when you needed help. If I needed anything, she’d be there for me. I wanted to be that kind of friend for her, but it seemed as if I was always the one needing help. I didn’t know how much things would change.
7
My Chance
Early the next Sunday morning, Mama struggled to get out of bed and dressed to go to the church meeting. “It’s not very often we get a real preacher around here,” she said, pulling on her woolen shawl against the morning chill. “We have a lot to be thankful for, this Lord’s day.”
“Maybe you should stay in bed,” Papa suggested. I knew he was concerned about Mama, and I also knew he’d rather bust dirt clods than go to a church meeting.
