Cherokee Sister

by Debbie Dadey

  The creaking of the leather saddle took my mind back to the first time I had surprised Papa by polishing his old saddle. I had worked at night until it had shone like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Papa had whistled when he’d seen his old saddle shined up the next morning. “Allie, you’re my official saddle polisher from now on,” he’d said.

  “Do you really like it?” I’d asked.

  Papa had nodded and patted my head. “I sure do. It wouldn’t look half so pretty if I’d done it myself,” he’d said.

  I gulped. Papa would have to polish his own saddle again without me unless I could find a way home. I pulled another bead from my dress and let it fall into the mud.

  Lightning flashed overhead as we came to a clearing surrounded by sycamore trees. “Gather them up,” Captain Reynolds shouted. We clustered in a circle with the men’s rifles aimed at us. I was becoming so used to having guns pointed at me that I barely realized they meant danger. The rain was coming down so hard I was surprised to see Elisi looking into the sky. I looked too, but I didn’t see anything.

  Without a word, Leaf suddenly bolted from our group and ran to the trees. “No!” I screamed when Conners raised his rifle. Suddenly I remembered what a gun could do. I lunged toward him and pulled the barrel down.

  Conners slapped me across the face and sent me reeling into Elisi’s horse. I didn’t care; I didn’t want him to shoot Leaf. Elisi’s blood still stained the front of Conners’s shirt. I didn’t want Leaf’s blood there too. Maybe I’d given her time to get away. Maybe she was going for help. But I couldn’t believe Leaf would leave us.

  Leaf didn’t get far, though. Myers grabbed her up by the waist and threw her at me. “Keep your butt with the others,” he yelled.

  “Are you crazy?” I yelled over the storm as I helped her off the muddy ground. “Do you want to get killed?”

  “I needed this to help Elisi’s wound.” Leaf held up a strip of bark. She popped it into her mouth and chewed. Brown juice ran down her chin.

  “That’s horrible,” I told her. “I’m hungry too, but I wouldn’t eat that.”

  “It is not to eat,” Leaf said. She eased the softened bark under Elisi’s bandage. Elisi looked down from Conners’s horse and nodded at Leaf.

  “Damn, these stupid Indians and now this all-fired rain,” Conners muttered. “Aren’t we ever going to see sunshine?”

  I looked at Conners and lifted my head. I was Papa’s sunshine. He needed me. I dropped another bead. Home with all the chores was the only place I wanted to be right then. Home. Sunshine. I kept saying those words over and over in my mind.

  Although the sun didn’t shine, the rain eventually let up a little. Through it all we kept walking west. Elisi rode with her head up and never said a word, even when an occasional gust of wind sent rain in strong sheets.

  The rain fell like needles, pricking my skin in thousands of places. I bent my face down to stare at the mud, to keep my eyes safe from the stinging rain. Mud, horses’ hoofprints, and more mud were all I saw. The rhythm lulled me and I was half asleep when Leaf whispered in my ear, “I know this trail. They are taking us to the Cherokee village.”

  I had never seen the village before, but Leaf had talked about it often. Elisi had grown up there, and Leaf’s father had been born there. The Sweetwaters visited the village once a year for the Green Corn Dance. Leaf had told me about the many people who gathered, laughing, telling stories, feasting, and dancing. Hundreds of Cherokees still lived there, although many had moved away to start their own farms or run businesses, like Elisi.

  Leaf grabbed my shoulder. “We will be safe there. Indians will be everywhere. The soldiers will surely be defeated.”

  I wanted to sing. We were going to be all right. These foolish men didn’t know what they were doing. We would be safe as soon as the Cherokee braves captured them.

  Leaf must have felt the same because she actually did sing. “‘Amazing Grace! How sweet the sound.’”

  The men were so startled they didn’t stop her, and I joined in with Leaf. “‘That saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found.’”

  It felt so good to sing with Leaf again. For a moment we were happy. But then a strong burning smell filled the air and Elisi moaned, “Oh, no. Tsi-sa.” She had called on Jesus for help. If something was wrong up ahead, I prayed that he would hear her.

  No one, not even Conners, uttered a word as we came upon the village. Even the little boys fell silent.

  No singing. No parties. No feasting. No braves waiting to pounce on our captors. Not a single child or dog ran freely in the village. Most of the homes were smoldering ashes in the rain. Strewn around in the mud lay smashed clay pots and ripped clothing. We walked past a dead dog. It had been shot in the stomach. Immediately I thought of Old Jim, grateful he was safe at home.

  “What have they done?” Leaf moaned. “Even the council house is gone.” We walked to the center of the village, where a few stubborn flames licked the roof of a huge building. The smell of burning wood hung over us like death. The hell the traveling preachers yelled about must look like this.

  Everywhere there were wagons. And they were filled with Cherokees, guarded by white men with rifles.

  “Here.” Captain Reynolds stopped and pointed. Conners quickly pulled Elisi off his horse and pushed her toward an open wagon.

  “Get in.” Conners motioned with his rifle. One by one, we climbed into the wagon bed. Leaf and I helped Elisi get up. Inside, three children huddled beside one woman wearing a torn dress. Two older women stood up and helped Elisi sit down. They spoke to her and Leaf in hushed tones. I couldn’t understand them. I sat beside Leaf and looked at the two Indian men in the wagon. Big, rusty chains bound their feet and hands. Conners wasted no time chaining the men from our group, even the injured Eastman boy. I felt sorry for him. He looked so pale and worn that I feared he wouldn’t make it much longer.

  “Spread out and help the others,” Captain Reynolds ordered his men. “Make sure everyone is out of the village. Myers, watch these Indians.”

  Myers started to complain but spat tobacco into the mud instead. Conners whooped and headed into the nearest house that wasn’t burning, a small plastered abode with a thatched roof. In a few minutes he came out with a long red-and-blue beaded belt, which he stuck into his saddlebag.

  “They’re stealing!” I cried to Leaf. How could he do that right in front of us? I wanted to take that belt and hit Conners with it. I looked at Leaf. Her eyes filled with hate. Then I remembered the way the men had stolen from the store.

  “My moccasins!” one of the small children cried. The mother quickly quieted him. One of the Indian men in our wagon tried to stand when he saw Conners walking around with his son’s moccasins, but Myers shoved his rifle into the man’s chest and pushed him back down with a warning. “Sit or I’ll shoot.” We all knew he meant it.

  I sat on the pine floor of the wagon for a long time without saying a word. The smoke from the burning houses stung my nose and eyes. My beautiful white dress was brown with dirt and sweat and heavy with rainwater. I pulled several of the beads Elisi had so lovingly sewn and scattered them on the ground beside the wagon. Twisting a strand of hair around a dirty finger, I tried to catch some rainwater in my mouth. My lips cracked when I opened them, they were so dry. I wanted my papa and my mama. At twelve, I knew I was too old to be such a baby, but I couldn’t help it.

  Every once in a while someone whispered something to Elisi or Leaf in Cherokee, but no one spoke to me. I couldn’t even understand their words. The soldiers might think I was Cherokee, but no one else was fooled. I was not family. I had never been to the village. I did not belong there. I jumped when Leaf leaned toward me and whispered, “Do not worry. The army will figure out their mistake and you will leave us. You will be all right.”

  “We’ll be all right,” I said firmly, looking up into the sky. “Look, the rain is stopping.”

  “The sky has no more tears,” Leaf said. She said som
ething else too, but I couldn’t hear because the wagon jerked forward and started bouncing over the trail. Leaf and I linked arms to brace against the jolts.

  The late-afternoon sun came out and quickly steamed the wagons dry. An odor of wet cotton and hot bodies hung over us. We headed west again, farther away from home. We traveled the rest of the day and into the night. I dropped beads along the side of the wagon as we moved until finally I had no more to drop. Every bead was gone.

  Leaf watched the trail closely. My insides hurt too much from the constant bouncing to watch where we were going. I didn’t cry out, because no one else did. But I wanted to.

  At last I fell asleep on Leaf’s shoulder. When I awakened the coolness of night had its icy grip upon us and we had stopped. I couldn’t see much in the dark.

  Conners pointed his rifle at us. “Get out!” he hollered. “This here is your home until we can get you to the territory.” He meant the Dark Land.

  When I stood up, everything hurt from my head down to my throbbing toe. Leaf was helping Elisi out of the wagon, so I scrambled to help too. Conners herded us into a fenced area. The first thing I noticed was a terrible smell—mud and urine, mixed with sweet honeysuckle. Huddling in a muddy corner, we heard others groaning around us in the darkness. Babies’ cries mingled with coughs as I stared into the black night.

  14

  White Man’s World

  I wished for the night’s darkness when I saw our prison the next morning. Rough posts had been strung together with many strands of wire to make a pen. It was the same wire Papa had used to make a chicken coop after a fox had killed three of our hens. Our prison had no roof, and mud puddles made up the floor. I couldn’t tell how many pens surrounded us, but there were others and each was squeezed full of sleeping Indians.

  Leaf lay beside me, staring at the sky. We stared for a long time without speaking. Clouds rolled by, unaware of the misery we were in. Nothing changed until an eagle appeared, a lone eagle soaring high above our pen. One of the guards must have seen it because he shot into the air. But the eagle flew away, unharmed.

  “Something big will happen today,” Leaf whispered hoarsely.

  Her words made me afraid. Surely this camp was as bad as it could get. I turned toward Elisi. Her eyes were open and she was staring at me. After a few minutes, she nodded and closed her eyes. I looked around. Everywhere people huddled, seeking warmth in the chilly morning.

  “I’ve never seen so many people all together,” I whispered.

  Leaf kept looking into the sky. “Cobb warned us,” she whispered. “They mean to get rid of every Cherokee in Georgia. I hope he finds us soon.”

  “I can’t believe they’re doing this.” I shook my head, trying not to think of Cobb being dead.

  “I cannot believe they shot Elisi,” Leaf said. We both looked at Elisi’s still form. The bruise on her head had turned an ugly purplish green. Strands of silver hair fell across her face, partly covering the swelling. Mud clung to her wet skirt and a patch of dark brown stained the skirt covering her right leg.

  The whimpers and coughs of cold children surrounded us as people awakened. No one spoke, except to soothe a child. Mud coated everything, even the trousers of the soldiers who walked outside the fence. My dress, caked with brown slime, was ruined. Not even Elisi could fix it now.

  Then I had a horrible thought. How would Papa know those beads I dropped were mine? Even if he found the first one by my old dress, what would make him look for more beads? For the first time, I felt completely hopeless. How would anybody find me? Leaf must have read my thoughts because she put her hand on my shoulder.

  “Cobb will come,” she assured me. “Somehow he will save us.” I couldn’t let my friend have this useless hope. Cobb was not coming. My father was not coming. Leaf and I would be better off if we believed the truth of our terrible situation and forgot about hope. Nothing would change for us.

  “Leaf,” I said softly. “Cobb is dead.”

  Elisi moaned, but Leaf tore her hand away from me as if I were on fire. “You lie!” she yelled. “All white people lie!”

  I kneeled close to Elisi as she moaned again. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. He may be fine.”

  “No. He is not fine. Things will never be fine again.” Elisi opened her eyes and looked at the sky. “Cobb is better dead than here, covered with the white man’s mud.”

  “Cobb is alive. Allie cannot know for sure,” Leaf told her, glaring at me.

  Elisi moaned as if she hadn’t heard. “It is a terrible thing for a mother to outlive her children, and her children’s children.” Then she closed her eyes. She didn’t open them for the rest of the morning, even when Leaf checked her leg.

  Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut? I hated myself for making Elisi so unhappy. I hated myself because Leaf had stopped speaking to me. And I hated myself for being white.

  After a morning of ignoring me, Leaf grew restless. I watched her move around our crowded pen asking the Cherokees huddled together if they knew anything about Cobb. She sat down beside an old man for a long time, while I squatted in the mud beside Elisi.

  I was thinking about Mama and Papa when Elisi put her hand on my arm and whispered. “Allie.”

  I leaned close. “I am old now,” she said, almost to herself. “As a girl I had no fear. My husband and I lived in love until he died of the white man’s sickness.”

  Elisi grimaced in pain. I wished I knew how to help her. If only I had listened when she’d told Leaf about healing herbs, and made my own medicine pouch to help her. But I had nothing.

  Elisi’s eyes clouded as she went on. “I cannot help Leaf. I will soon be with my husband and son and grandson. They called me last night.”

  “Elisi, I don’t understand. You are sick. I . . . I will find help. Everything will be all right.” I looked around. Elisi must have been crazy with pain to be talking about dead people being near.

  “Don’t be scared.” She spoke faintly but firmly, and I knew she hadn’t gone crazy. “Cobb called to me in my dreams. But I cannot leave this place until I know that Leaf will be safe. This is the white man’s world. I must leave her in your care.”

  “Please, don’t talk this way.” I choked out the words.

  “The Real People, my people, believed the white man’s promises and treaties too many times. But this promise you must keep. I cannot rest until I know Leaf will be well.”

  “But they think I’m a Cherokee too,” I said with tears welling in my eyes.

  “This dawn, I opened my eyes,” Elisi whispered. “An eagle soared over you. It was a sign. Will you help her?”

  I stared at the ground, unable to speak. “Give me a hug,” Elisi told me. “You are stronger than you think.” I gently put my arms around Elisi and she held me close. Elisi said I was strong, but I felt like a baby who just wanted her grandmother to keep her safe.

  “Promise me,” Elisi whispered.

  I sat back, twisting my hair and thinking. If I promised, I was telling her she could die. I didn’t want that. I needed her and so did Leaf. But when she squeezed my arm I swallowed hard and whispered, “I promise.”

  Elisi looked into my eyes before she nodded. Then she leaned her head against the fence and closed her eyes.

  15

  The End

  Leaf didn’t say anything when she came back and I didn’t ask. The truth about Cobb was better left unsaid. Elisi put her hand on Leaf’s shoulder and we sat in the mud. All we could do was wait. Wait to find out what they would do to us next.

  The sun beat down without mercy, and by mid-afternoon it had baked dry most of the mud on us and on the ground. For the second time in my life, I wished I had my old blue bonnet. If the guards hadn’t brought some corn bread and water, I would have fainted from the heat.

  While we ate our tiny portions the old Mrs. Bridge started wailing again as she had on the trail. When a guard walked over and hollered, I figured she’d quiet down, but the gu
ard left and she kept on. It was a miserable sound, but I knew how she felt. It was the sound of a life without hope.

  A few minutes later an empty wagon drove up. Two white men came into our pen. They grabbed the hands and feet of Mr. Bridge, the Indian man who’d been beaten. Now I knew why Mrs. Bridge was wailing so loudly. Her son was dead. The two men tossed him into the wagon like a sack of flour. The old Mrs. Bridge, her daughter-in-law with the baby, and the two little boys stood at the fence until the wagon’s wheels were no longer in sight. They stood, waiting and waiting. But no one came back to tell them where they’d taken the body.

  As the day wore on, an old Indian man came to look at Elisi’s leg. He spoke in Cherokee for a long time. Elisi answered and took the pouch from around her neck. When she opened it, I saw that it was empty.

  “I should have gathered more herbs on the trail.” Leaf groaned and jumped up from beside me. She grasped a fence post with her bare hands and shook it.

  A guard hit the fence with the butt of his gun. “Get away from the posts,” he ordered.

  Leaf slumped down. The old man chanted in Cherokee until dusk. Elisi was silent long after he left. Then she motioned for Leaf to come close.

  I could not hear what Elisi said, she spoke so softly. Finally she closed her eyes and Leaf turned to me. “She said I must stay with you because she is going to my father. She told me to never forget Cherokee ways.” Leaf squeezed her eyes shut and held my mud-crusted hand until we fell asleep.

  In the middle of the night I awakened, cold, hungry, and scared. I wanted to go home. In my misery, I started sobbing. A hand on my head startled me. It was Elisi. I know a good Cherokee doesn’t show emotion, but Elisi didn’t scold me. She just hugged me tight until finally my tears stopped. We found a little warmth huddled together under the great starry sky.