“Let us not discuss such heavy matters today. We are newly acquainted,” Jonas Chandler continued. “I have brought you something, Mr. Sanders—a gift for your hospitality. May I be excused?”
Sanders sighed deeply, and everyone at the table seemed to relax a little. “Certainly,” Morgan replied.
Jonas rose, meeting his son’s eyes warningly, and Adam knew he had angered his father. But he couldn’t have helped showing off in front of the bragging Douglas Means, nor did he like the idea of the young man having eyes for Andrea. He wished he could look at her, talk to her!
Jonas returned shortly with a burlap bag bulging with lumpy forms. He handed it to Morgan Sanders. “Here is something you can keep for many months and enjoy at any time of day.”
Morgan frowned and opened the bag, pulling out a handful of brown, rounded pods. “What are they?”
“Peanuts,” Jonas replied. “We are learning to grow them, and they grow very well in our soil. Once they are harvested, they are roasted. Then you crack open the shell and eat the hardened pea. They are very good.”
Morgan cracked one and tasted it, then grinned. “By golly, they are good!” He passed a handful around, and everyone tasted them, smiling and commenting about how good they were. The attitude was more relaxed again, and Morgan Sanders rose, suggesting that the men go into the parlor and have a smoke while the women cleared the table and laid out new dishes for pie. Soon everyone was bustling. Ruth and Mary both helped Andrea and the other women clear up. But Andrea noticed that Adam walked outside, and she wondered where Douglas was.
Everything was commotion then, the men smoking and discussing peanuts and how to grow them, the women scraping plates and scrubbing dishes. Andrea dumped all the leftovers into one pan and carried them outside to a hole dug for garbage. She heard voices when she neared a shed near the house, and she froze in place. Adam and Douglas were arguing on the other side of the shed.
“Why don’t you just go home, white boy!” Adam was saying.
“And leave you to make eyes at Andrea and my sister? I saw you look at Andrea. You Cherokee boys like nothing better than getting under white girls’ skirts!”
“I think you’re the one with that on your mind most of the time,” Adam retorted. “I know your kind, Douglas Means. The Indians have a word for it. Why don’t you get on your fine horse and ride home, white boy!”
“Make me, Cherokee!”
“You wouldn’t want me to embarrass you like that in front of everybody, would you?”
“How could you embarrass me? I’m older than you are.”
“And I’m stronger. You want me to prove it?”
There was a moment of silence, then a scuffling sound, and a grunt. Andrea set down the pan of garbage and peeked around the corner to see Douglas face down on the ground, one arm bent up behind his back, Adam sitting on him. She ducked back, smiling but not wanting them to see her.
“If it were the old days, I would be splitting open your back with a knife right now, white boy! But we are civilized now, remember?” There was another grunt. “Now get out of here, or I’ll pick on you in front of everyone, and Andrea Sanders will see what a weak, pitiful thing you are! It’s her you’re thinking of, isn’t it? Don’t worry, white trash. You don’t need me to keep you from getting her or any other girl. Just be your own, ugly, obnoxious self. That will chase them away every time!”
Andrea could actually hear Douglas weeping then. “Let me up!” he choked out. “You’re breaking my arm!”
“And wouldn’t I love to truly do so!”
She heard more scuffling, and the sound of someone brushing off clothes. “I’ll get you some way, someday, Cherokee!” Douglas blubbered through tears. “Having you and your family wasn’t my idea, and my pa wasn’t crazy about it either. Someday our people will have your land, Indian, and you’ll either be dead or on your way to Indian Territory, where you’ll burn up in the desert!”
He walked off, and Andrea peeked around the shed to see Adam brushing himself off. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He looked up at her in surprise. “You heard?”
She nodded and hurried around the corner so they could not be seen. “I’m glad you hurt him. I don’t like Douglas. He bothers me all the time. I’m afraid of him.”
Adam scowled. “You let me know if he ever hurts you. I’ll make him regret it!”
Her heart swelled with a feeling of importance, and something else, a strange, new feeling she didn’t yet recognize as love. “You will?”
“Sure I will. It’s ones like him who should be exiled, not my people. I saw how he moved beside you. Has he ever touched you? Kissed you?”
Their eyes held. “No,” she answered quietly. “I try to stay away from him. But it’s hard because his sister and I are very good friends.” She could not remove her eyes from his. “Why do you care, Adam?”
He stepped closer. “I…I’m not sure. Sometimes I think about you, Andy, ever since I saw you at the oak tree. I think things that are wrong for a Cherokee boy to think about. And I…I’ve wondered…if you thought any more about me. I went back every day, waited for you to come. I guess you didn’t want to.”
Her whole body felt on fire. “Oh, but I did. I was afraid you’d…you’d think I was like…those other girls.”
He shook his head, studying her lovingly. “I wouldn’t think that. I want to talk more. Come and see my sister, Andy. I could see you that way. And maybe when you come we could go to the oak tree together. My sister wouldn’t say anything.”
She put a hand to her aching stomach and nodded. “I will. I’ll come soon. If my parents think I’m coming to see Ruth, they’ll let me.”
He studied the blond hair and blue eyes, his young man’s urges and curiosity burning painfully at his insides. “Did you think about me, too, Andy?”
She nodded. “I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it.”
“I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you, Andy. Nobody like that Douglas will ever touch you. I…I can’t stand the thought of another boy…” He bent closer and she did not resist when his lips met hers lightly. It was a wonderful kiss, sweet and warm and respectful. A fire ripped through her limbs, waves of wonderful passion and new desires overwhelming her. Why would her mother or any other woman not enjoy this? And as for Adam, his body ached with fierce urges, and he was consumed by manly feelings of protectiveness and desire and possessiveness. He suddenly felt ten feet tall, and in her eyes he was. She thought him instantly the most intelligent, biggest, strongest, bravest most beautiful young man who had ever walked the face of the earth. To him she was the prettiest, sweetest, most understanding girl he’d ever known, but she was just staring at him now. Had he offended her?
“Don’t be mad, Andy,” he said quietly. “I promise if you don’t want me to do that again, I won’t. You’ll still come, won’t you?”
She put her fingers to her lips. “I…I’ve never been…kissed…” She turned and ran then, wanting desperately to stay, wanting to throw her arms around him and let him kiss her again, yet shivering at the thought of even looking at him again. She would surely die of embarrassment, for she’d blatantly let his lips actually touch her own. She didn’t bother with the pan of garbage. She hurried into the house, telling her mother she felt sick. She hurried to her room and closed the door, throwing herself down on the bed. Being kissed by Adam Chandler was the most wonderful and yet the worst thing that had ever happened to her—wonderful because it was so beautiful and she’d wanted him to kiss her, terrible because he was Cherokee and to have feelings for a Cherokee could only bring both of them disaster. She shouldn’t go to his house, should never see him again. Yet she knew she would, just as surely as she breathed.
Her mother came into the room then. “Andrea! Is it something you ate?”
“I…I don’t know, Mother. Tell Mary and Ruth not to come up. I’ll be all right. Just let me lie here a while.”
Harriet Sanders smoothed back A
ndrea’s hair. “Are you sure? We’re having pie.”
“I don’t want any. I just don’t feel good. I think it’s the heat.”
The woman sighed. “All right. I’ll be up to check on you in a while.”
After her mother left, Andrea longed to be able to talk to her, to anyone. But there was no one. Never had she felt so alone. Wonderful, aching urges surged through her at the memory of Adam’s kiss, and she closed her eyes and whispered his name.
Soon she heard people downstairs saying their goodbyes, and she heard Ruth Chandler tell her mother that she hoped Andrea would be all right. Then the voices were outside. Andrea got up and went to her window, looked down at the people below. Douglas had already left. The Meanses climbed into their buggy and were off. Then Adam exited the house, apparently having gone back inside, hoping to see her again. She wanted to call out to him but dared not. He looked up before he got into the surrey and saw her standing at the window. Their eyes held.
Oh, how she wanted to go to him, to kiss him again! He looked worried as if he felt he had offended her and she had run away in anger. But when she waved to him from the window, he flashed that lovely smile. He climbed into the surrey then, wishing he had ridden his own horse so he could show her what a fine rider he was. He wanted to show her everything now, all his skills—be a man for her. He wanted to lie under the oak tree with her and kiss her in its shade, touch her breasts. He already wanted to be with her again, so badly that he wasn’t sure how he’d bear being away from her. Wrong as he knew his feelings were, he didn’t care. What were wisdom and caution and properness to a boy and girl of such youth and passion? They meant nothing. At sixteen a man could conquer the world, and woe to anyone who tried to stop him.
Chapter Three
There was a sweetness in the air, the warmth of summer, the smell of growing things. Birds sang and bees buzzed as Andrea guided her pony along the climbing, winding road that led to the other side of the ridge, a farmhand riding with her for safety. When the letter had come from Ruth, asking her to visit for a weekend, Andrea had feared her parents would refuse. But they had agreed, wanting to make up for the insult Douglas Means had dealt the Chandlers at the Sunday dinner now almost two weeks past.
Andrea’s agony over those two weeks had been difficult to hide. Again she had not gone to the ridge, still afraid Adam would get the wrong idea of her, and afraid Douglas would see her, for he seemed to see everything. Now she had an excuse to see Adam again openly. Her heart pounded with anticipation. Was he just teasing her that day behind the shed? Was he laughing at her? Surely not. His eyes were so sincere, the kiss so sweet. She would soon see him, even though she was supposed to be going to visit with Ruth. Somehow they would find a way to be alone together, and maybe he would kiss her again, and then she would know. It would be an exciting weekend indeed, for in the letter Ruth had said there would be a barn dance and that Andrea should bring a dress for it.
It was exciting and even a little frightening to be riding into Cherokee country, to actually be staying at the home of Cherokee Indians. Surely nothing quite so exciting would have happened to her if they had not moved from the south. She was glad now, even though she’d left friends behind.
They approached the fine brick home of the Chandlers, and Andrea suddenly felt out of place. She hoped she wouldn’t do anything that might offend Cherokee ways. She looked around at the neat farm, and the well-kept home, with roses and daisies and all kinds of flowers blooming around the porch. Ruth Chandler got up from a porch swing and hurried down the steps, smiling.
“I’m glad you could come, Andrea!” she said excitedly. “I’m also glad you’re feeling better. It’s too bad you got sick the day we visited. We didn’t get to talk.”
Andrea looked around, half hoping Adam would come to greet her but afraid to ask about him. Her father’s farmhand took down her carpetbag and helped her down, and a black man was walking toward them.
“Take Andrea’s pony, John, and tend to her, will you?” Ruth handed the pony’s reins to the black man, and Andrea stared. This must be one of the slaves. The man nodded and took the horse, and Ruth turned to the farmhand. “Would you like something to drink, sir, before you return?”
The man looked uncomfortable and glanced at Andrea. “You sure it’s okay to leave you here, Miss Sanders?”
“Of course it’s all right, Hank.”
The man sighed. “Don’t know what this world’s coming to,” he mumbled. He remounted his own horse and looked at Ruth. “No, thanks, ma’am. I’ll be going back. I’ll come for her Sunday afternoon.”
“Fine. Thank you for bringing her, and please thank Mr. Sanders for letting her come and be away from her chores.”
“Sure.” Hank scowled and shook his head, rode off.
Ruth put a hand out to Andrea. “Come inside. It’s cooler.”
Andrea picked up her carpetbag and followed the girl inside. Ruth was very pretty, her skin a smooth, unblemished brown, her dark hair hanging to her waist in pretty, rippling waves. Mrs. Chandler greeted them with a warm smile.
“Welcome, Andrea. I hope you’ll enjoy being here.”
“I’m sure I will, ma’am.”
“Ruth will take you up to her room. She wants to show you her doll collection. Come down in a few minutes and have some cookies.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Ruth tugged at her and Andrea followed the girl through a cool hallway decorated with polished tables and fancy vases, its floor covered with a brilliantly colored woven rug. The house smelled clean, and was elegant. They climbed polished mahogany stairs carpeted with a soft, velvety red rug. Ruth excitedly showed Andrea her parents’ huge master bedroom, a large, fourposter bed taking up a good share of it.
“Do both your parents sleep in here?” she asked.
“Of course they do! They’re husband and wife, aren’t they?” Ruth giggled and pulled her on to another room, simply decorated, with many Indian artifacts hanging on the walls. “This is my brother’s room. He keeps things from our ancestors and studies Cherokee history. He’s always saying he wishes he could be a warrior like our ancestors. I think that’s dumb, but he gets mad at me when I tell him so.” She tugged at Andrea again, but Andrea just stared.
The room was clean and neat, and all sorts of Indian weapons and religious objects decorated it. She tried to envision Adam here, felt the strange urgings again when she pictured him lying alone in his bed, perhaps thinking about her. She felt a sudden possessiveness. She didn’t want Adam Chandler to belong to this room, this family, these people. She wanted him to belong to her, but that might never happen.
“Where is your brother now?”
“Adam? Who cares!” Ruth waved her off. “Actually he’s out helping my father brand calves. He won’t be in till evening. Come on. I’ll show you my dolls.”
Andrea followed reluctantly. She wanted to just sit in Adam’s room and wait for him. But he was not supposed to be the reason she had come, and the Chandlers must not suspect that he was. She followed Ruth, wondering if Mary Means was still mad at her. The girl had been furious when Andrea had gotten an invitation and she hadn’t, and she was consumed with jealousy because Andrea had a new friend. She said spiteful things about Indians and warned Andrea not to get too close to “that dirty little girl.”
They went into a colorful, brightly decorated room, where a row of dolls lined a long, built-in chest under the windows. Andrea gasped with delight. The little girl, still strong in her, was infatuated by the collection, and she began to study each doll, most of them china.
“Father travels a lot, working for the Indian cause, taking Adam to schools in the North, things like that. He always brings me back a doll,” Ruth was telling her. “You can play with any of them you want. Do you want to take one downstairs with you?”
“Oh, yes, I…” Andrea hesitated. What if Adam came in? He could not see her sitting with a doll in her hands! He would laugh at her and think her a child, never want t
o kiss her again. She would die of embarrassment if he saw her with one. “No, I don’t think so,” she said then. “I might break it. I’ll just look at them when we’re in your room.”
“But it’s okay—really.”
“I don’t think so, Ruth. I’ll look at them more tonight.” She turned to the girl. “What should we do, after we eat cookies?”
Ruth shrugged. “I thought we could go riding and watch them brand the calves for a while, then maybe go swimming at the stream. We have a special place where we swim, about a mile from here. Tomorrow father is taking us to New Echota, and tomorrow night there will be a dance there.”
“Will Adam go to the dance?”
“Sure he will.” The girl picked up a doll and began to make it dance around on the bed. “I heard him and another boy talking about some white girls who might be there, the kind boys say bad things about. They were trying to think of a way to sneak off with them. I told Adam I heard, and I told him if he was mean to me, I’d tell on him.”
Andrea’s heart took a plunge and her stomach tightened. White girls? There was only one kind of girl they could be. Somehow the thought of Adam visiting a hayloft with one of those girls made her want to cry, and it made her angry, too. How could he think about such things, after kissing her? She almost wished she could be like them, yet knew Adam would not respect her if she was. She vowed not to let Adam out of her sight tomorrow night, and it was all she could do at the moment to keep from crying at the thought of his even talking about those other white girls.
“Let’s go have some cookies,” Ruth was saying.
Andrea followed her downstairs into a large, bright kitchen, where Mrs. Chandler, still baking, was ordering a heavyset black woman around. Andrea and Ruth stuffed themselves on fresh cookies and milk, then went out to the barn, where a black man readied two gentle horses for them. Andrea’s pony would be left behind to rest. Andrea rode out of the barn behind Ruth, and followed the girl for nearly two miles to the camp of several men who were roping and branding cattle.
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