Andrea! How tempted he had been to try to see her. But common sense had told him he must bear the pain of being apart, for to go to her too soon would only make her parents more angry. Andrea! What was she thinking? Was she wondering if he would ever come for her…if he had forgotten about her? He hadn’t! He loved her and she belonged to him. He was her first man and he’d be her only man. She was his wife, and it was time to go and claim her.
He was breathless when he reached his farm. He ran to one of his father’s huge storage barns, where he found Jonas Chandler inspecting some peanuts. Chandler looked at his son. During the last two weeks, Adam had lost weight, had had little to say, and had smiled at no one. Now to his surprise the boy was smiling. Jonas suspected his son’s downcast mood had had something to do with the white girl, and he wondered what had just happened.
“Father, we have to talk,” Adam told him.
“Right now? I am in the middle of something, son.”
“It’s important, Father. More important than the peanuts. I need your help, before I go crazy and do something foolish.”
The man sighed over the trials and tribulations of trying to raise a handsome, intelligent, energetic son who was now madly in love with a white girl. He dropped the peanuts, ordered a hand to pick out any that were too small, then walked outside with Adam, away from any who might hear them talking. He leaned against a fence and studied his son, seeing more desperation in the boy’s eyes than he had realized was there. He lit a pipe, his heart filled with dread and warnings.
“I have been worried about you ever since you told me about that girl, Adam,” he spoke up. “And the last couple of weeks I have been especially worried. Did she change her mind about you?”
Adam took on a proud, defensive look. “Never, Father! Not Andrea. She is not that kind. She is…I love her…truly love her. And she loves me.” He turned away then, watching some cattle graze. “She is my wife, Father…by Cherokee law.”
There was a long moment of silence, and when he faced his father again, the man’s eyes were sad and concerned. “I warned you not to touch her that way.”
Adam swallowed. “We could not help it, Father. It seemed so…so right. And we were always so scared, having to meet secretly and all. It just made it seem more urgent…more necessary. I couldn’t bear the thought of maybe never having her that way. And she wanted me, too. I was…” He looked down, leaning against the fence himself. “I was her first. I made her my woman, Father, and I’m glad. She is good and sweet and beautiful, and she loves me just for me. She doesn’t care that I am Cherokee.”
“Her parents will care. We know that now more than the first time we talked.”
The boy nodded. “Yes, sir. But that will not stop us.” He looked at his father, determined and possessive. “Nothing will stop us! I want her, Father. I want to be with her always, to sleep with her at night and provide for her and take care of her like a man is supposed to do for his wife!”
Jonas put a hand on the boy’s arm. “Calm down, son.” He set the pipe on the fence railing. “What has happened?”
Adam turned away. “I am not sure. I think somehow her parents found out she was meeting someone on the ridge. Suddenly she stopped coming. I snuck down to her house that first day she didn’t show up, and I saw her crying out in the field. I started to go to her, but then her mother called her, and I heard shouting, something about a boy and the ridge and beating her with a belt. I don’t think they know who the boy is, but they suspect she has been meeting someone. I have not seen her since. That was about two weeks ago.” He turned then, his eyes teared. “Father, I can’t stand this. If they don’t let me have her, I’ll go and steal her! I’ll—”
“You’ll do no such thing! We’re hanging on to our land by a thread as it is, Adam! Don’t do something stupid!”
The boy swallowed, one tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t care anymore what happens. I want Andrea. I want…I want to go to their house and tell them I love her and wish to marry her. Will you come with me?”
Jonas Chandler’s heart was breaking into pieces as he watched the agony on his son’s face. How painful was young love, how passionate and possessive. What choice did he have but to go and at least try, for his son’s sake? The boy had been suffering alone for the last two weeks, unsure what to do. He was such a man, yet in many ways still a boy who needed his father’s help and approval. Chandler nodded.
“I will go with you. But I must have your promise that whatever they say, you will remain calm and will not cause trouble. Promise me, Adam.”
The boy breathed deeply for control. “I promise, Father.”
They embraced then, and Jonas could feel the boy shaking. How long had it been since he’d first walked? Wasn’t it only yesterday? It irritated him that just because Adam was Cherokee, he could not have the girl he loved. It wasn’t right. But worse things could happen. Being Cherokee might mean they could not own land and have their own government. What was so wrong about being an Indian? It wasn’t just his son’s love he worried about. It was the whole Cherokee Nation, more and more threatened by white invasion. He looked past his son at the cattle, the farm, their lovely home. How long would he be able to hang on to all that he loved?
Andrea’s heart pounded wildly when she went to the window at the sound of approaching horses. It was nearly dusk, but there was no mistaking who the riders were. “Adam!” she whispered.
There could only be one reason why he had come. It would be out now. They would have to tell. He must think her parents would consider letting them be together, but she knew otherwise, and never had she been so afraid, not for herself, but for Adam.
She ran to her closet, ripped out a pretty pink dress, and quickly removed the one she’d worn all day. She slipped on the pink one, wishing she’d known they were coming so she could have been ready. Hurriedly, pulling a brush through her hair, she then leaned forward and pinched her cheeks. She looked terrible, for she’d hardly eaten during the past two weeks and she’d cried so much she wasn’t sure she had any tears left. She had considered running away several times, but something had told her to wait for Adam. She’d been certain he would come, that he could know what to do, once he’d figured out she could not come to him.
She heard footsteps on the porch, the door opening…voices. What were they saying! They came inside. He was here with his father. What other reason would bring him to her home? He had come for her. Adam! Her beautiful, wonderful Adam! He’d come for her, like the man that he was. Andrea’s heart pounded furiously. Her one glimpse of him told her he looked wonderful but that he, too, had lost weight. He was dressed in a fine black suit and wore a round, felt hat. He and his father both rode fine Thoroughbreds, sleek animals of quality breeding.
The voices moved to the parlor, and Andrea went to the door of her room. There was still a little pain in her legs from her father’s beating, but the welts and redness were mostly gone, with only faint bruises remaining. She opened the door and started out, but her mother met her at the top of the stairs, her dark eyes stern and angry.
“Stay up here. Don’t come downstairs.”
“But…we have company.”
“Get back to your room!” her mother ordered.
Andrea backed up, and Mrs. Sanders turned and went back downstairs. Then Andrea snuck to the railing, trying to hear but unable to discern much of the conversation until her father’s voice was raised.
“So, it was you!”
“Yes, sir.” Adam’s reply was calm. “I love your daughter, as much as any man can love a woman. I wish to marry her, in a proper Christian wedding. I am a Christian, a Methodist—”
“You are a heathen!” Sanders interrupted. “What vile things did you do to my daughter? What devil’s play have you been up to?”
Andrea began to shake, and a lump swelled in her throat.
“I have done nothing vile with your daughter,” Adam replied, his own anger now burning inside.
“My so
n is a good boy,” Jonas Chandler spoke in Adam’s defense. “And not really a boy. He is a man. He is educated, strong, intelligent. He is handsome and hard-working. Someday he will inherit all that I have, be a rich man in his own right. He can provide well for your daughter, and I know he would take good care of her.”
“Do you really think I care about those things? You are Indians! My daughter will not marry any Indian. And what makes you think that by the time you die you’ll own anything at all, Chandler? When you die, it will be in Indian Territory. Yes, your land might belong to my daughter someday—through me—because I’ll own it!”
Andrea’s eyes widened in shock and horror. How could her own father talk that way?
Downstairs Adam grabbed Morgan Sanders’s lapels and shook the man. “I love Andrea! Don’t do this to us! She’s mine! Mine by right! I have already claimed her!”
“Adam!” Jonas Chandler pulled at the boy, but Adam was bigger than his own father and would not let go. He shoved Andrea’s father onto a couch. Sanders drew back a big fist then and landed it in Adam’s face. There was a loud crash.
“Adam!” Andrea cried out. She flew down the stairs and into the parlor, running to where Adam lay against the wall, his lower lip split and bleeding. “Adam!” she repeated. She turned wild eyes to her father. “I hate you! I never dreamed you could be this way!”
“You get to your room, you slut!” he roared, heading for Adam, who was struggling to his feet.
“No! Don’t you touch him!” Andrea threw herself over him, but her father yanked her away by the hair of the head, throwing her sideways. Her head struck a table, and she slumped to the floor.
“Andrea!” Adam looked from her to Sanders, who was already bent over, ready to land another blow on Adam. Adam butted the older man with his head, knocking him back.
“Adam!” Again Jonas grabbed at his son. “You made me a promise! This is not the way!”
“I don’t care!” Adam shouted, struggling against his hold, tears in his eyes. “She belongs to me! And now he’s hurt her!” He yanked himself away and charged into Sanders, punching wildly at the man, but Sanders was bigger and full grown. He brought a booted foot up hard into Adam’s privates and the boy buckled in black pain.
“I’ll teach you to use that thing on my daughter!” Sanders growled, licking at blood on his lip.
Jonas bent over his son, then looked up at Sanders. “I took a vow against violence, Mr. Sanders, but don’t count on such a vow after this. We came here to speak to you in the proper way, to ask for your daughter’s hand in respectable marriage. You once opened your home to us, and to my daughter—”
“Only because it was the best way to find out what you’ve got, Chandler, and to find out what the Cherokee are up to. If your heathen son had kept his hands off my daughter, things might have been fine. Just because I offered our friendship and our food, that didn’t mean I was offering my daughter for your son’s pleasure! Now get him out of here, and don’t ever let me see him again!”
Adam struggled to his feet, groaning Andrea’s name. He stumbled over to her, bending over her unconscious body. “Andrea!” He touched her face, bending down and kissing her forehead.
“Get him away from her!” Morgan Sanders roared. He stormed to a corner of the room and picked up a rifle. “This thing is loaded. Get him out of here before I shoot him! I can tell the law anything I like, and they’ll believe it because you’re Cherokee, so don’t think I can’t kill him and get away with it! Now get out!”
Jonas Chandler wanted nothing more than to murder Morgan Sanders at that moment. But Sanders had acted much worse than he had expected, and at the moment the man had the upper hand. Adam was bent over Andrea, rocking in his own pain but weeping over her as she lay still and unconscious.
Jonas went to the boy. “Adam, come with me. He’ll kill you if you don’t,” he told him urgently. “Please, Adam. What use would you be to her dead?”
“No! I won’t leave her! Bring her with us, Father! Bring her with us!”
“We can’t, Adam. Not right now. Trust in the Lord, Adam, and in your love.”
Sanders moved closer, pointing the rifle at Adam. “Get up, boy, or I’ll splatter your brains all over this room!”
Adam patted Andrea’s face once more, then slowly got to his feet. His father was right—for now. What good was he to her if he was dead? But he would be back. He would be back!
“I will go, Father, but only because I do not want you to get hurt.”
Jonas Chandler’s eyes teared. “I am sorry, son. I did not think it would be quite this way.”
“You thought wrong, Chandler!” Sanders roared. “Your dirty-minded son messed with my innocent daughter. That’s all your Cherokee boys are good for. I thought it might be different, thought a fine family like yours could be trusted. That just goes to show that no matter how educated and refined an Indian pretends to be, he’s still an Indian! Now get out.”
Jonas took his son’s arm, but Adam still stared down at Andrea. How could he leave her behind? Would her father beat her? “Andrea!” he groaned.
“Come, Adam. There will be a right time.”
“Not as long as I’m alive!” Sanders growled.
Adam glared at him. “My love for your daughter will win, Mr. Sanders,” he hissed. “You will see! She will be my wife, and you can’t stop us!”
“Don’t bet on it, Cherokee!”
“Adam, come away now,” his father urged. “Let them get a doctor for Andrea. The longer we stay, the worse it is for her.”
Adam looked down at her. “I should be with her.”
“Give it time, Adam. Come. Do not bring harm to these people. It will only hurt the cause.”
“My only cause is Andrea!” the boy growled, jerking away.
Sanders rammed his rifle barrel into the boy’s stomach. “This is my last warning. Do like your pa says, boy. I’ve reached my limit!”
Adam was not afraid, only wise. If someone got killed over this, Andrea would be ruined forever, and a war could come out of it. There would be another time. He would see to it. He turned and quickly walked out, ignoring the pain that still engulfed him. Andrea! He should not ride away from her, but what else could he do? He had not come prepared for such hatred. He had not known it was so bad.
He mounted up, bending over in pain then.
“Hang on, son,” his father told him, picking up the reins of his horse and leading it. Then they rode off, Sanders watching until they were out of sight.
When they’d gone, the angry man went back inside. His wife was bent over Andrea.
“She is hurt, Morgan.”
“I’ll take her upstairs. You pack her bags and I’ll ride for that woman we met Sunday at church—the one from the Christian school up north, where we talked about sending Andrea this fall. She’s going right now.”
“What?” The woman looked at her husband curiously. “Tonight?”
“Tonight. She’s just got a bump on her head. By the time she comes to and gets rid of her headache, she’ll be well on her way north, away from Adam Chandler! Maybe two or three years away from home will straighten her out and make her forget him. I only hope this doesn’t get out and that some day she can marry a respectable man.” He picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her bed, placed her on it. “Get packing. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. If she comes to, give her some whiskey or something to relax her. Don’t let her come fully awake, or she might try to run to that bastard.” He stared down at his daughter disgustedly. “Imagine, our Andrea lying in sin with that…that…” He turned away. “My God! I just wanted to make friends with them, to find out what the Cherokee were doing. How did this happen?”
“The devil works in devious ways,” his wife replied, a strange sadness in her voice.
Sanders sighed. “Well, his work is finished. Andrea Sanders will be a mature woman with some sense the next time she sees Adam Chandler, if she ever sees him at all. She’ll change her tu
ne when she grows up some. I just hope she can forgive herself.”
Andrea lay still, hearing but unable to speak or react, an odd blackness swimming over her eyes, her body weak and lifeless. Adam! Where was Adam? Where was she going?
“Do you think Mrs. Endicott will take her in the middle of the night like this?”
“She will for the right price.” He went to the door. “Keep the doors locked. I’ll have a couple of hands keep watch in case that young heathen comes back. After tonight it won’t matter. Andrea won’t be here.”
Chapter Eight
“Father, I cannot leave her there.”
“You must for now. They are her parents. They can’t bring her any real harm. We need time to plan, Adam.”
“He wasn’t even upset when her head struck the table! What if she dies or something.” Adam halted his horse. “Father, I have to go back. I have a terrible sick feeling inside. I can’t just…just leave.”
“He would have killed you, and gladly. Don’t go back and give him reason to do so. What good would you be to her then? We’ll go home and send back one of the white missionaries. Maybe Sanders will listen to one of them.”
Adam swallowed back an urge to cry. His groin screamed with pain, his mouth hurt. But he would gladly go back and beat on Morgan Sanders again, and take a licking himself if necessary. But the gun…Sanders meant business. He had not been prepared for quite so much hatred. He’d never dreamed it could be that bad. Andrea! Andrea!
“Do you really think one of our missionary friends could help?”
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