Cherokee Sister

by Debbie Dadey

  “Nonsense,” Mama said. “Thanks to Allie’s nursing, I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  Papa sighed and went outside to hitch up the wagon. I had to smile because sitting all day at a church meeting wasn’t my favorite thing either, but at least I could get away. After an hour or so, I could ask to go to the outhouse and then sneak away for a while. It was something most all of the parents let their children do, as long as they were quiet about it. No one would mind, except, of course, the other children who had to stay.

  “Let’s have a look at you, missy.” Mama tied the bow on my blue bonnet. “You look like a big sister to me,” she said as she patted her stomach. “I think you’ll have a brother soon.”

  “Brother?” I asked. “How can you tell it’ll be a boy?” All Mama’s other babies had been girls.

  Mama winked and pulled her bonnet over her tightly bunned hair. “It’s just a feeling I have. And Mrs. Sweetwater said the baby sits like a boy. I think your papa will be happy.”

  “Do you think he wishes I were a boy?” I asked.

  Mama tied her bow firmly under her chin. “No, honey. Your papa wouldn’t trade you for a hundred boys.”

  That was what Mama said, but I had my doubts. If Papa had a boy he’d take him fishing and hunting. They’d work the fields together and Papa wouldn’t have to work so hard. I’d bet Papa would even see his way clear to get his son a horse and teach him to ride, something I’d love to do. As many times as I’d polished Papa’s saddle, I’d never once gotten to ride on it. I figured if Mama had a boy, Papa’d start singing again.

  Lots more people came to the prayer meeting than usual. Some I’d never seen before. A couple of soldiers and a few new families were mingling with more familiar faces in the barnyard when we drove up. Children were playing in the yard, trying not to get dirty.

  A girl with a big white bow in her blond hair came up to me after I’d climbed down from our wagon. “Hello. My name is Miranda,” she said. “What’s yours?”

  I opened my mouth to answer her, but Miranda kept talking. “We just moved from South Carolina. We had a store there. Papa is looking for a good piece of Indian land and he has his eye on a place near the river. Papa says I’ll have my very own room pretty soon. I’ll be glad when everything is settled. Have you been here long?”

  I nodded. I’d never heard anybody talk so much at one time without even taking a breath.

  Miranda kept right on. “Papa said it’s about time they opened up the Indian land. Have you ever seen an Indian? I think I’ll faint if I see one. Papa says he’ll shoot any Indian he sees. His brother was killed by Indians. You sure don’t talk much, do you?” Luckily, the bell rang to start the meeting so I didn’t have to say anything.

  “See you later.” Miranda waved and went off to join her family. “I’m sure we’ll be great friends.”

  I was sure I’d never be friends with Miranda, I thought as I watched her walk into the barn with a tall, thin man, a big, round woman, and three tall boys.

  The service started right after Papa and I had settled Mama into a seat. I tucked a quilt all around her to keep out the chill. We sat near the back in case she felt dizzy and had to leave in the middle of the service. But Mama seemed to be in high spirits and looked better than she had in a long time. I guessed all that rest had done her good.

  We sat on a wooden plank bench for what seemed like hours. The traveling preacher hollered about sinning and slammed his fist on the wobbly table at the front of the barn. He sure seemed mad about something. Maybe he didn’t like the smell. Mr. Eldridge always cleared the animals out of his barn when the preacher came around, and Mrs. Eldridge cleaned it as best she could. But the smell of animal dung still hung in the air.

  I tried to listen to what the preacher said. “We are all created in the Lord God’s image. We are his lambs. Let us pray together.”

  Everyone in the barn recited together the Twenty-third Psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures . . .” I prayed along with Mama, Papa, Miranda, and everyone else but I wondered if the preacher included the Cherokees when he said we were all his lambs. Then we sang Mama’s favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace.” I was kind of hoping the preacher might be tired of talking. He wasn’t, though. He started right in again. I tried to listen, I really did, but the plank benches were awful hard and a fly kept buzzing around my head.

  Finally I leaned over to Papa and whispered, “May I go to the outhouse?” Papa nodded. With my eyes lowered, I eased out the heavy wooden door into a few minutes of freedom.

  I really did need to use the outhouse. Even in there I could still hear the preacher. He was getting full of the Holy Spirit. “Sin no more!” he shouted. “Remember the commandments!” I hoped God wouldn’t mind if I took a little break from the service.

  I slipped into the woods behind the outhouse and headed for the Sweetwater store. It would be all right to go there. After all, two whole weeks had passed since Papa had told me to stay away. The trouble hadn’t even happened.

  I was sure Papa hadn’t meant for me to stay away forever. And besides, just a quick visit surely wouldn’t hurt. Mama didn’t need my help right then, and the Eldridges lived about the same distance as we did from the Sweetwaters. They never told me as much, but I knew Mama and Papa had long ago figured out that a trip to the outhouse meant a play break, and they wouldn’t expect me to come right back. If I hurried, Papa wouldn’t even have to know I had gone so far. I felt guilty about it, but I was burning inside to see Leaf.

  I didn’t get far before Miranda pounced on me. “Hello, remember me?” she said, still not giving me time to answer. “Isn’t this the most boring service you’ve ever been to?” Her eyes rolled around as if they were loose in her head and she giggled.

  “I hope God doesn’t strike me down for saying this,” she said, “but that place stinks. Mama says the first thing we need to do when we get rid of the heathens is to build a church for God-fearing folks.”

  When Miranda said “get rid of the heathens,” my ears perked up. Talk like that worried me. I had never heard someone my own age talk meanly about people they didn’t even know. I guess my face must have showed it.

  “My,” Miranda said, “you are the most serious girl I’ve ever met. And quiet, too.”

  “I have to go,” I told her, suddenly wanting to see Leaf very badly.

  Miranda smiled. “I’ll go with you. We’ll have an adventure.”

  I shook my head. Miranda wouldn’t like where I was going. I put my hand to my ear and lied, which I knew was a terrible thing to do on the Lord’s day. “I think I heard your mama calling you,” I said.

  Miranda sighed and headed back toward the barn. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. So we can get to be good friends.”

  I waited until Miranda was behind a tree. Then I took off to be with my one true friend.

  8

  Just Like Me

  Sparrows sang as I ran over the shady trail. The late-morning sun was soft on the red and yellow maple leaves. I stopped for a second to watch a woodpecker tap, tap, tap on a tree, eating his breakfast of bugs. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that Mama had packed cold chicken, corn bread, and buttermilk pie for the meeting picnic. Dinner seemed so far away, but I’d make it back in plenty of time to eat.

  I was close to Leaf’s store when I heard loud, angry voices. They scared me, so I slipped behind a large maple tree to see what was going on. I saw six Indian men standing in front of the store. Some of them had their shirts off and one had red berries smeared on his chest and face. Two staggered around with bottles in their hands. Leaf’s brother, Cobb, stood on the porch steps. He wore a clean white shirt and trousers. His dark hair hung long and loose.

  Cobb spoke quickly in Cherokee, so I couldn’t catch much of what he said. I kept hearing dahnawa over and over, a word I didn’t know. I was ready to forget about seeing Leaf and head back to the preaching when a warm hand closed over my mouth.

&n
bsp; My whole body froze and I squeezed my eyes shut. What was it Papa had said? “There’s going to be trouble.” He had warned me. Now it was too late. Trouble had just found me.

  “Follow me,” a familiar voice whispered into my ear. Leaf! My friend took her hand away. I was so grateful it was her and not one of the men that I giggled with relief.

  Leaf squeezed my shoulder and put a finger to her lips. I nodded and quietly trailed her into the woods. I could tell from her basket of herbs that she’d been hunting for medicine plants. We made a wide circle around the store and came up to the back entrance. Slipping inside the wooden door, we padded softly up the rear steps.

  In Leaf’s small room the plank walls were smooth and bare, except for Cobb’s painting of an eagle on one side. A heavy quilt with a log cabin design covered the bed.

  It always amazed me that this whole room was all Leaf’s. I had a rope bed in our keeping room, and underneath it I kept my special things in a little wooden box that had once held cigars. My hair ribbon, some pretty rocks, and the penny I’d gotten for Christmas were the only things that were mine alone. But Leaf had this whole room full of nice things to herself, with a whole big bed that she could even sit on without being fussed at.

  I’d heard people talking at other church meetings. They were plenty mad that some Cherokees had better houses than them. They figured Indians didn’t need houses, a hut was good enough for them. Why, to hear them talk, some Cherokees lived in mansions. Leaf’s house wasn’t anything like what I figured a mansion might be, but it was pretty nice.

  I sank into the feather bed as Leaf closed the wooden shutters to her window. They nearly cut out the shouts of the men.

  “I did not want them to see you,” Leaf explained, her eyes without a hint of mischief.

  “Why?” I asked, nervously twirling a strand of hair around my finger. “What’s going on? And what does dahnawa mean?”

  Leaf sat down next to me. We huddled together in the softness of her feather bed. “It means war,” she said. “The men are very mad at white people. They might cause you trouble if they see you here.”

  “Maybe I should stay up here for a while,” I whispered.

  Leaf nodded. “The way some of them are drinking, they may fall down drunk pretty soon. Then you could sneak away.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said. “I can’t be gone from the church meeting too long or I’ll be in deep water with Mama.” With a hungry stomach, I remembered the fried chicken in the big basket. Mama would really be angry if I wasn’t there to eat.

  “You will be fine. Want to see the dress Elisi just made me?” Leaf asked, and opened her walnut wardrobe. Several gingham and animal skin dresses hung together, and a pair of new leather shoes sat on the bottom. Leaf pulled out a pure white buckskin dress. Small blue beads were worked into the material and more beads hung from the armholes.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I whispered. I had only one faded brown dress to wear every day. I had to wear my petticoat at night while I rinsed it out. Mama had promised to make me a new dress after the baby came, but it wouldn’t be as special as this wonderful white one.

  “Why don’t you try it on?” Leaf suggested. She didn’t have to ask again. I threw off my bonnet, shoes, and dress. The buckskin felt like spring rain coming over my head. I’d never worn anything so soft or so pretty. I felt like a princess standing in front of Leaf’s tiny mirror, admiring myself.

  “I would like to give it to you,” Leaf said. “In that dress you could be my igido, my sister.”

  “Igido,” I said with a smile. “But I can’t take it,” I told her. “It’s too precious.” I was amazed that Leaf would give me something so beautiful. But I could never take such a generous gift. Besides, if Papa saw the dress he would know I’d been to the store after he’d warned me to stay away. Papa had never actually switched me, but he’d get angry enough to consider it if he knew I’d disobeyed him.

  “Elisi worked a long time on this dress, so maybe I should not give it away,” Leaf said. I think she knew why I couldn’t take it and how much I wanted it. “But perhaps you could wear it again when you visit.”

  “You’re the best friend anyone ever had.” I hugged Leaf and then looked in the mirror again.

  Leaf picked up some of my long hair. “Let me give you braids and then you will look just like me.”

  I watched in the mirror as Leaf twisted my hair back and forth. With my tanned face, the buckskin dress, and dark braids I could easily pass for Leaf’s sister, or at least her half sister. What would it be like to live in this nice house with all kinds of food to eat and lots of clothes to wear? I felt terrible for thinking that. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful for all that Mama and Papa did for me.

  At Christmas I never saw candy or an orange for Mama or Papa, but somehow there always managed to be something for me. And Mama always made me a new sunbonnet or apron from scraps she saved. I vowed not to think bad thoughts again.

  “Listen,” Leaf said after my hair was done. She opened the shutters and we heard only a blue jay fighting some sparrows in a nearby tree.

  “They’ve left. I’d better hurry back to the church meeting,” I said, reluctantly picking up my blue dress to change.

  “We should make sure they are really gone,” Leaf suggested. She started down the tiny wooden steps and I followed. I’d never noticed before how ragged my old dress was until I held it next to Leaf’s beautiful new one. I almost felt jealous again, but then I remembered that this was the Sabbath and not a good day to be jealous of others. At least I had a dress.

  Our bare feet fell softly on the scrubbed wooden floor of the storeroom. Leaf pulled the brown burlap curtain aside and looked inside the store. I peeked around the edge of the curtain too. There were no customers, only Elisi counting nails in a jar.

  “Elisi,” Leaf asked, “are the men gone?”

  “Finally.” Elisi nodded and gazed out the open front door. “I thought I would have to run them off myself.” She paused and shook her head. “I am hungry for the old days. The time before stores, rifles, and white men.”

  Elisi stared off into the woods for a moment and talked, as if to herself. “I remember the days when my sisters and I hoed corn together. We were so young and beautiful. Many young warriors wanted to mate with us, but your grandfather was the one for me. Starting this post and working hard together, those were some of my happiest days before the measles took my loved ones away.”

  I’d never heard Elisi speak much of her youth. I’d never wondered what it was like for her alone, without a husband. It must have been harder than she ever said.

  “Is it safe for Allie?” Leaf asked. I stepped from behind the burlap and smiled.

  “Oh, sweet child. Were you here listening to my ramblings the whole time? It is dangerous for you here now.” Elisi hugged me and then held me away. “But this is not Allie. This is a beautiful young Cherokee maiden.”

  “Do you mind?” Leaf asked. “I let her try on my new dress.”

  I held my breath. Surely such a beautiful thing was not to be shared. But Elisi shrugged. “It is yours to do as you want. It is a good person who shares what she has. But now we need to walk with this young maiden and return her safely. No telling what a bunch of men with whiskey in them will do.”

  I nodded and started toward the storeroom. “I’ll change quickly.”

  Elisi had just grabbed her shawl and pouch from the peg beside the door when we heard shouts and horses coming fast.

  “Are they back?” Leaf asked.

  Elisi shook her head. “No, Cobb and the others left on foot. No good can come from whoever is in such a hurry. You two hide behind the pickle and cracker barrels.” It seemed like a strange thing to do, but we minded. Leaf and I knelt together on top of my brown dress. I spread it out to protect the white buckskin dress from the floor. I pulled the bottom of the buckskin from under my legs and was horrified to discover I had pulled off one of the beads. I tucked it into my old dress. I hope
d I’d be able to sew it back on before Leaf noticed.

  Elisi almost had the wooden log down to lock the door when two men burst into the store, knocking her against the counter. A jar went crashing to the floor, sending pralines rolling close to my bare feet. Two more men came in through the back entrance. I recognized them. They were the same men Leaf and I had seen in the woods, Myers and Brownie. The two of them were so close I could smell the liquor on their breath.

  “Where’re your customers?” asked a lanky man with a stringy mustache. He was the only one of the four wearing a blue army uniform.

  “They left,” Elisi said, never once glancing toward our hiding place. “Is there something you need?”

  Myers snorted.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” The man with the mustache silenced Myers with a glance. “I’m Captain Reynolds of the United States Army. In compliance with the Indian Removal Act, we’re taking you to the new Indian territory.”

  9

  Soldiers

  “Thank you,” Elisi said calmly. “But I have no plans to move.”

  “You have no choice,” the captain said, his watery blue eyes meeting Elisi’s dark ones.

  A young man with a big brown hat spoke to the lanky captain. “Sir, let’s grab the squaw and go,” he said. “We can hit at least two other places before nightfall.”

  “All right, Conners. Check the rest of the house,” Captain Reynolds mumbled, and walked out the door.

  Myers hollered, “Take what you want and let’s get out of here.” In their eagerness to steal things, the men knocked bolts of material and boxes off the shelves. It sounded as if the entire store were crashing down around us. One wooden box fell right beside me, barely missing my head. I grabbed Leaf’s arm, held on tight, and tried not to scream.

  Conners smashed a jar with his rifle butt and scattered candy everywhere. I could smell the sweet taffy, but it turned my stomach. Conners’s boot kicked into a bushel basket, sending beans the size of blueberries rolling all over the floor.