A Perfect Bride

by Ginny Sterling

  That evening, she wrapped her arms around the tree tightly and prayed for rest, yet none came. Near dawn, she almost fell out of the tree from sheer exhaustion. Her body became flaccid as she lost consciousness. This scared her and she grappled back in her position, shaking and staring at the ground. No, she would not fall this day or any others. Instead, she would make her way down and find some sort of weapon to defend herself with while she tried to rest with the earth beneath her. Among the ashes of the wagon, she found a hunting knife that was more like a sword in her tiny hands. Scooting around the glen, she looked for any signs of her family.

  As she crossed over a hill, she found their bodies and let out a horrific scream. Quickly clapping her hands over her mouth, she realized she was still moaning in disbelief yet unable to muffle it. The last thing she wanted was to have whoever did this, return to finish the job. Her father’s beloved pale green eyes stared at her. She looked away from the frozen death mask expression he wore. It had obviously not been a gentle passing for her beloved father. She intended not to get any closer to see how the others had died as the tangle of limbs showed massive injuries. Flies buzzed in the thick air around them, making her nauseous. Her stomach cramped in protest, yet there was nothing to emit when she gagged. Falling down in a faint, she arose, stumbled and made her way down the slight hill away from them as fast as possible.

  She was alone.

  Unsure of her location, not one hundred percent certain of their destination other than “Georgia” – Colleen was simply alone and adrift. She stared at her feet and felt almost puppet-like as she placed one right in front of the other, carrying her away from the sight. She walked and walked, exhausted. That night, she found a large bush and curled into a ball underneath it to hide away from it all. Finally, able to shut her eyes safely, she clenched the knife for a false sense of security and slept.

  It was late in the day before she awoke again. She was beyond exhausted mentally and physically. Her lips were chapped from thirst and she had not seen any clean water in sight. The idea of drinking from a stagnant pool full of darting little bugs disgusted her yesterday… but, today, it was having its merits! She was thirsty and desperately hungry. Pulling herself out from under the bush she had slept beneath, she tucked the large knife in the belt of her stained apron and began her travels again. One foot in front of the other, over and over again. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to put distance between herself and the remains of her family.

  Stopping to gather a few peaches, she snacked on them and grimaced as the tart juices stung her cracked lips. The fruit helped her hunger and barely slated her thirst. She would give her eyetooth for a tall, cool glass of water right about now though. Or for some of Jamie’s rabbit! she thought, feeling tears come to her eyes. Don’t think about him or that sooty, burnt rabbit he was so proud of. Focus on finding shelter and help.

  Time passed and she continued to wander. Looking down at her pink arms, she could only imagine how red her nose must be from sunburn. She needed a bonnet, water, food and rest. Her mother would have been so upset at the freckles that were sure to appear on her nose. But now, none of that mattered.

  Shelter and help. Those were her priorities.

  Colleen walked until she swore her feet were blistered to match her face. Her nose was extremely tender and her arms were a brilliant ruddy hue. Several days had passed, yet she had seen no real signs of water or sustenance. She had seen a rabbit at one point, but catching it was a completely different matter. She might as well have not taken the knife because she had yet to pull it from her apron. Death was something that felt alien to her, regardless of it being a source of food. Again, she took shelter under a large bush in order to hide from others or animals. It was frightening to become used to a meager routine.

  Feeling someone shake her from her slumber, Colleen almost slapped at Sarah’s hand and realized it wasn’t possible for it to be her. Sarah was no more. Her pale green eyes flew open and she stared at two of the blackest orbs she had ever seen. Opening her mouth to scream in fear, she saw the girl’s doe-like eyes smile silently, as she held out a small amount of food in a trembling, tanned hand.

  Staring, Colleen studied the girl that looked to be her age. The girl’s braids mirrored hers. Yet where her hair was red and curled, the young Indian girl had long, straight braids, tied with leather straps. She was dressed differently than the other females she had ever seen. Once, she had attempted to wear trousers and was vehemently chastised for it. She wore trousers today, but that had been to protect her legs. She had scavenged the pants from the few items of clothing that had been left after the fire. This girl was wildly feminine in a foreign way. She was in a straight doeskin dress with few markings. The dress came mid-calf and she tucked her legs underneath her demurely. Cocking her head to the side, she whispered softly some sort of gibberish. As she smiled, Colleen realized that the girl was waving towards her indicating that she should follow her. What if they killed her, too, like her family?

  Instead, her stomach gave a mighty rumble causing the girl to laugh quietly as she handed Colleen more food. Colleen assumed it was food by the way she gracefully turned her hand upwards to her mouth indicating she should put it inside. Colleen did so, groaning in happiness as the thick, berried mixture touched her tongue. Smiling, the girl took her hand causing Colleen to flinch as the young Indian clasped her tender, sunburnt skin. With a sympathetic frown, the girl muttered something softly to her and tugged that she should follow. Chewing, she followed, simply too exhausted to care.

  Not far ahead lay several strange buildings hidden in a grove of trees. They faintly resembled the thatched cottages her father used to tell her about in stories of Ireland. The buildings were comprised of sticks and straw thickly tied together. Several people began to stare as the Indian girl pulled her into the middle of the makeshift village. Braves ran up and began yanking fiercely on Colleen’s braids causing her to yelp in pain. As she walked with the young girl, another brutal yank on her braids had her unleash all her pent-up rage.

  “STOP IT!” she screamed with all her might, clenching her fists to her sides as she shook with anger. “You’ll stop it and never touch me again! Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?” Colleen roared unabashedly and then yanked out her knife. “You want this? THIS?” she cried, waving her braid at him. “Then take it! Dinna you ever, EVER, touch me again!”

  Grabbing her knife, she sawed angrily towards the bottom of her hair, causing it to unfurl in waves as the braid became unwound. She hurled the handful of red hair at him.

  “There! There is your stupid hair!” she yelled angrily, her cheeks puffing. She felt intensely better screaming at him. And she was satisfied that he seemed to have listened to her, by his stoic expression and those of the people around him. She tucked her knife back in her apron belt, turning to rejoin her new friend who had the sustenance that her body craved.

  Instead, a tall man with darkly-tanned skin blocked the way, watching her carefully. He said some words over his shoulder, causing a woman to come forward and stand with the young girl. It reminded her of her family, causing a rush of tears to her eyes again. The woman looked wary of her, but the warmth in the girl’s eyes was unmistakable. She seemed to be the only one that was welcoming and, frankly, Colleen was tired down to her soul. She stood there defensively, expecting to be attacked or killed for simply being there. Her hands were balled into fists and she stared arrogantly at the tall man directly in the eyes.

  “You are brave, little fire,” he told her in broken English.

  “No’ brave. Angry! It hurt a lot when he pulled my hair. It was quite rude,” she countered with a frown. “You speak English?”

  “Not good,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. He looked down on her silently, as if he were measuring her. Colleen crossed her own arms in the exact same fashion, causing him to grunt in approval. He called out loudly several guttural words towards the others, causing them to come closer. Col
leen yanked out her knife from her apron, feeling extremely intimidated and alone.

  The tall man quickly took the knife from her. She was surrounded. “You will be our family. You will teach,” he hesitated, searching for the word. “You teach Hidden Doe your words and your fire. She will teach you the way of the Tsa’lagi. You will be safe,” he promised.

  Colleen could only stare at them all, completely stunned. They were offering her a home after everything she had known had been taken from her by another Indian. These people offered protection and a haven to a bedraggled, strange-looking young girl. She could only imagine how she must have looked as she angrily waved a knife too large for her, burnt and her red hair in a cloud behind her. She resembled a massive plume of fire to match her temper. Yet these people wanted her, accepted her and wanted to teach her their ways. She had wanted shelter and help. She had it all, as well as a new life while she mourned the loss of her family.

  “Come,” he said simply. It wasn’t a question or a request. The tone left no room to question or argue, unlike her da where she could speak up or chime in her thoughts. He stopped at his wall of people and didn’t look back at her. Instead, she looked at the questioning glances and the doubt in the surrounding eyes. She could see that the by not showing instant obedience, it was unknown to them. He must be important!

  Racing after him, she saw the crowd part and meld back together behind her. The tall man began walking forward again, silently, towards one of the makeshift houses. The people were curious about her and it showed. Some of the bolder ones reached out to touch her, while others shied back and stared.

  He ducked inside and Colleen waited for a brief moment, giving her new friend time to catch up. As the girl stepped beside her, she gestured silently indicating that Colleen should enter. Nodding, she followed and gave her eyes a moment to get used to the dim light. Inside, she saw that he had taken a seat on a mat, cross-legged. Several others were in the room watching her. The man met her confused gaze and glanced down at the empty mat beside him. Taking the hint, she dropped down ungracefully and instantly felt embarrassed. Everyone was so calm, quiet and formal. She felt like the most uncouth heathen, like she had accused Jamie of being. Straightening her torn pants, she covered the hole at her knees and smoothed the fabric down as much as possible. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and calmed her nerves. She imagined she was wiping a slate clean, clearing any expression from her face in order to mimic his expressionless face and Hidden Doe’s.

  “This girl is now family. She will teach us the white man’s words, as I have begun to learn. Few of us speak their tongue but we must all learn it. We will teach her our ways.” He paused for effect and raised his hands in the air. “She has been sent to us, to grow. This girl will be called Little Fire.”

  Hidden Doe watched her with dark, fathomless eyes. Colleen gave a tentative smile, only to see everyone immediately look to her. “Little Fire and Hidden Doe will be sisters. It will fall to Hidden Doe to teach her to our ways. If she cannot learn them, then Little Fire will return to the white man having known that the People are good. The People are kind.”

  “This will be the way. You will teach and you will learn,” he pledged, turning his dark eyes towards her. His irises stared right through her. “Your lessons begin now.”

  Nodding quickly, she glanced at the shadows outlined in the room. “Yes, sir,” she said quickly.

  “No,” he amended. Hidden Doe then chimed in softly, and he gestured from her to Colleen.

  “You begin now. Use the People’s words, not yours, unless you are teaching her. Hidden Doe said, ‘she is happy you are here’. You will say gvlieliga udohiyu. This means ‘thank you very much’.”

  “Gvlieliga udohiyu,” she repeated dutifully, struggling over the pronunciation. Colleen said it twice more aloud, practicing the new language. At his quick nod, he stood. She almost stood with him, except she saw that Hidden Doe did not move. She remained seated and watching the girl. As he walked out of the one room building that would serve as their home, she felt a momentary panic at being left behind. Instead, she glanced again at Hidden Doe as she finally stood.

  “Ayv asvnasdi alihelisdi,” she whispered with a wide smile. “I happy.”

  “Me, too,” Colleen said grinning, scrambling to her feet in order to follow Hidden Doe. She was simply happy to be alive and not alone. Every time she closed her eyes at night, it terrified her to think of what had happened in her short, turbulent life. Her father’s expressionless eyes would haunt her forever. There was a chance at settling in somewhere, anywhere, and this might be it.

  There was much to learn about her new life and new home. The man that had taken Colleen under his wing was the chief of their tribe. This explained why there were no discussions when he spoke. His word was law and, apparently, greatly respected. His daughter, Hidden Doe, was approximately her age and struggling with interacting with others.

  She was picking up a word here and there of their language as the day progressed, but the biggest change seemed to be in her appearance. The women would braid their hair tightly and put bear grease at the ends. This was not to be the only treatment for Colleen, who was now being called Little Fire. Her grease pot she was given had a mixture of soot added to it to give it a darker coloring than her bright red hair. In a mix of very broken English and Cherokee, she gathered from Hidden Doe that if a white girl was found in the village that the tribe might come to harm. She willingly agreed to use the darkened rendering to keep them from attracting unwanted attention.

  Little Fire donned a buckskin dress in order to fit right in. She flinched as her own clothing was gathered up and tossed in the fire carelessly by another woman. It seemed so final to be getting rid of her clothing. Staring at the fire, she dashed away tears and took a deep breath. There was no reason to look behind her. It would change nothing. Her life was gone, her family gone... mourning them would only cause heartbreak and sorrow. Instead, she would look to the future and become part of the Tsa’lagi.

  Chapter Two

  April 1838

  “They will not come,” Chief Mighty Banner said calmly. Always formidable, strong and stoic. He never got upset or enraged. For Little Fire, he had been a wonderful mentor for her. She remembered faintly her years as a young girl, running rampant or talking back to her family over dinner. Yet now, that seemed almost a lawless and unstructured… foreign time period. She had thrived under the strict tutelage of Hidden Doe’s family and her father, the chief.

  They were speaking of the treaty that had been signed a few years ago, giving the government permission to remove the Cherokee from their land. Time had passed and yet no soldiers appeared.

  “They are all talk and no fire,” he continued, taking a deep draw on his pipe as he sat cross-legged in the house. “General Wool would not dare–”and he was abruptly cut off by one of the braves who had not learned his place as of yet. He had dared to interrupt the chief in front of others, causing several harsh looks. Little Fire just looked down and tried to hide a smile. She knew that their chief would tolerate the interruption only so long before having him removed forcibly. He always listened, but did not tolerate disrespect.

  “General Wool is no longer with the military. General Scott has promised to remove the People and travels now with his army,” the tall brave bragged, feeling he had superior information. And here we go, Little Fire thought ironically seeing her adopted father give the braggart a chilled look.

  “If you would listen to your elders speak instead of racing forward, you might learn that there is much to discuss rather than jumping to conclusions. Before I was interrupted by this child who has much to yet learn,” he said coldly, pointing his finger towards the door indicating that he should leave now. “General Wool would not dare to try the Tsa’lagi. So, the government has decided on another champion to carry their torch. These people have promised to move our people since my father was chief, yet it has not happened.”

  He took another long
draw on his pipe. Little Fire listened intently to his next words as she saw his expression take on a bitterness that she had not seen before. He held up his hand, indicating that he wanted silence and attention.

  “Tales have come that a great army heads our way,” he began and looked directly at her. Little Fire swallowed hard, feeling his intense, burning eyes looking directly at her. “If this army comes, they will come with a vengeance. I am sure. Change is hard, but necessary. We will talk and if need be, we will begin again in a new land away from this plague they have set upon us. Our people will prevail if this change comes.”

  Little Fire wondered if his words were as much a warning for everyone or if they were directed towards her, making her feel guilty for being an outsider. She had not felt like a foreigner for so long and yet, now, the sensation was crashing down on her shoulders. She was different and did not fit in with the others. Her people were the invaders that threatened their livelihood. Her heart beating, she remained seated as others got to their feet and left the room.

  “Do you blame me?” she asked softly once they were alone. The interior of the building had so many shadows from the stream of light pouring through the hole that allowed the smoke to escape. The light and the dark reminded her of the differences between them all. While she tried to forget, it was things like this that reminded her that it was her people coming after them. Ironically, it was her people who were after her family.

  “Does the tree blame the wind when its leaves fall? No, it is natural.”

  “You looked at me,” she quickly cut in and grew silent at the error. Staring at her hands sedately clasped in her lap, she waited for his next words. Her pale skin and freckles never changed over the years. The difference was glaring, yet she always tried to mask it. To fit in.