He snuggled his face against her neck. “I am warm and very hungry for my wife,” he said in a sleepy voice. “Wouldn’t you like to get warmed up?”
She laughed lightly. “We’ll wake Jonas.”
He stretched and snuggled down more, pulling the quilts up over their heads. “He sleeps like a log, and you know it. We’ve been running so fast we’ve been too tired to enjoy each other.” He nuzzled his face between her full breasts, kissing them through her flannel gown. “We can be lazy this morning. They say there will be a blizzard today and we won’t be able to go on for a day or two. Might as well enjoy it.”
He ran his hand up under her gown, and she felt herself weakening. “Adam, Jonas is right there beside you!”
He ran a big hand over her bare hips, moving it around and between her legs. “So what? Even if he wakes, he won’t know what we’re doing. He is six months old, Andrea. He hardly knows his toes from his fingers. You still have enough white woman in you to keep you from relaxing, don’t you?”
She grinned and tousled his thick hair as he nuzzled at her breasts again. “You don’t play fair.”
“Why should I, when there’s something beautiful and warm waiting to give me extreme pleasure?”
He seemed more relaxed and happy this morning than she had seen him in a long time. So far their tour had been very successful. It was good to have him more like the old, teasing Adam she had married. She unbuttoned her gown. “Shouldn’t I take this thing off first?”
He raised up slightly, already naked himself. “By all means.”
She reddened slightly and pulled the gown to her waist, then sat up and pulled it over her head. Shivering at the touch of the cold air on her shoulders, she threw the gown to the floor, and they both snuggled back under the quilts, laughing quietly.
“We can’t move too much or make too much noise,” she chided as his lips nibbled around her own.
“That might not be easy,” he answered. His mouth covered hers then, in a sweet, warm, provocative kiss that brought her body alive and made her blood run warmer. Her breasts pushed against his bare chest, warm skin against warm skin, the marvelous, shivering sensations that their nakedness brought them making them both tingle with anticipation and desire.
As his lips traveled over her breasts and ever downward, over her flat belly, his touch filled her with ecstasy and she knew he would do something wonderful again, something different and special. To him the act of love was almost sacred, for it was the ultimate invasion of his woman’s privacy, something reserved for Adam Chandler alone.
It was never easy for Andrea at first, but once he touched her the right way, she lost all inhibition and moments of lost enchantment followed. Then nothing existed but Adam and the way he touched her. She was pleasing him, giving to him in the most intimate way, taking trembling pleasure in return until she could no longer hold back the explosion he brought forth from her depths. She cried out his name in glorious abandon, aching for the final and grand invasion, and he moved back up over her belly, his body on fire, full of her sweetness. How proud and masculine he felt at his ability to invade his woman’s most private places and bring forth her wildest passions. He was quickly inside her then, with a groaning hunger, pushing hard, their lovemaking heightened by morning’s sweet warmth and sleepiness. He trembled with the want of her, his own breathing labored, his body on fire now, their skin covered with the moistness of hot desire.
The wind and snow didn’t frighten her anymore. All bad memories were temporarily wiped out as she lay beneath her beautiful man and gave him pleasure. His dark, broad shoulders hovered over her, and his hard-muscled body moved rhythmically so that she felt almost insane with pleasure.
It was one of the special moments she would always remember in the days to come. She knew somewhere deep in her heart that perhaps this could not always be. Every day she prayed ardently that she would never have to be apart from her husband and her baby. And moments like these were precious. She gloried in every touch, every movement, determined to remember…remember…remember. Adam, sweet Adam. Their beautiful son lying near them. Warm and making love beneath the soft covers, huddled against the winter storm in each other’s arms, where no harm could come to them. The wind howled and groaned outside, and the snow buried the little town in Ohio where they had stayed the night.
The night was still, and warmer than usual for January in Georgia, although even at this time of year it was seldom extremely cold. Jonas and Rose Chandler slept soundly. They did not hear the approaching horses, ridden at a walk so as to keep down the noise, nor did they hear the whispered orders. They heard nothing, until with a loud crash their front door was bashed open.
“Everybody up and out!” a voice shouted.
Jonas jumped awake, and Rose sat up, her eyes wide with fear. Before either could think what to do, a man slammed open their bedroom door and waved a rifle at them. “Outside!” he barked. Both rose, trembling with fear, and Rose reached for her housecoat. “Leave it!” the man ordered. “You won’t be wearing anything when we’re through with you.”
The woman stared at him in horror, frozen in place.
“What is the meaning of this!” Jonas growled.
“You’ll soon find out,” the man sneered.
They heard the screams then—Ruth! Men dragged her past their bedroom door and down the stairs. Rose and Jonas both moved then, Jonas reaching for the militia man’s rifle. But the man swung the butt hard, smashing it across Jonas’s face with a shattering blow that left Chandler reeling in blackness. Rose screamed his name and bent down to him, but more men came, pulled her away from him and carried her downstairs, dragging Jonas behind her. Within moments they were all outside. Jonas was held up by two men, and a third man approached him. To little Ruth’s horror it was the man who had invaded their house looking for Andrea nearly two years earlier. She cringed, terror engulfing her. The man grasped Jonas’s hair and yanked his head back.
“Are you Jonas Chandler?” he asked, speaking loudly.
Jonas spit blood, hardly able to see. “I…am. What is that…to you?”
“Did you speak at a meeting earlier this evening? And did you not preach to the Cherokee that they must stand and fight and must not willingly leave Georgia?”
“We will…never leave!” Jonas spit out.
Douglas Means slammed a big fist into Jonas’s stomach and Jonas buckled. “It is against Georgia law for the Cherokee to hold meetings!” Means roared. “It is against Georgia laws for any man to speak against Indian Removal! You have disobeyed our laws, Jonas Chandler, and you will pay! Your people will learn from the example we set for them this night!”
He turned steely gray eyes to the women then. Smiling hungrily, he walked up to Ruth, ran a hand over her breast. She was eighteen now, soon to wed a Cherokee boy. She jerked away from Douglas Means’s vile touch, but he only grinned wider, his eyes glittering. “You’ve filled out since last I was here, little one.” He grasped her gown then, ripping it open at the bodice and exposing her breasts. “You Indian girls are so pretty, and most of you fight, but I know down deep inside you enjoy every minute of it!”
Ruth’s terror knew no bounds as he ripped the rest of her gown away and she stood exposed to all of the men. “Take this one back upstairs,” he ordered. “When I’m through with her, I’ll bring her back outside and then we’ll burn the houses.” He glanced regretfully at the smaller house nearby. He’d learned from his informant that Andrea Chandler was not on the premises right now. He’d have delighted in ravaging her until she was dead from his abuse. That would be a fitting punishment!
“What about the woman?” one of them asked.
Douglas met the defiant eyes of Ruth Chandler, and his gaze then ran over her body. “A nice-looking piece of woman…for her age.” He looked at the men who held her. “Do what you want with her. But when you’re through I want her whipped. And make sure her husband sees it all.” He motioned to those who held Ruth, and they dragged
the screaming, kicking girl into the house.
What followed was beyond Jonas Chandler’s endurance. His aged body slumped to the ground, overcome by horror and helpless rage. The last things he remembered were the screams of his wife and daughter, followed by the acrid smell of smoke and the sounds of timbers falling.
It was April, 1831, when Adam and Andrea returned. They were refreshed and inspired from the trip, excited over the wonderful support they had found among the religious and business communities in the North. Little Jonas was fat and smiling, his brown eyes always looking for something to get into, preferably something forbidden. His strong legs now held him up as long as he had something to hang on to. And Andrea suspected she was pregnant again, although she had not yet told Adam.
They guided their buggies and coaches into New Echota, the entire group laughing and happy, glad to be back in Georgia, in their beloved homeland for which they had fought by touring and preaching all winter in the North. Their belief that things would change for the Cherokee was boosted by rumors that the North was outraged at the treatment of the Choctaws that winter, that the President and Congress were red in the face over the terrible mishandling of Choctaw removal. The journey was labeled as nothing but literal abuse, unforgivable and deliberate, scandalous. Surely this gave the Cherokees of Georgia more fuel for their battle to stay in that state.
Their first stop was the newspaper office, and Adam noticed an odd, grim look on Elias Boudinot’s face when he shook Adam’s hand vigorously and welcomed their small party home.
“It went well, very well!” Adam told him. “And it helped to have Andrea along. I am glad I took her.”
“That’s good, Adam. Did you bring plenty of petitions and letters!”
“My case is bulging with them!” Adam laughed, then turned to shake the hand of John Ross, who had just come from a back room. But he noticed that Ross looked at Boudinot strangely. His heart tightened with a vague warning, and his smile faded. “I expected you two to be a little more excited than this,” he joked.
John put a hand on his shoulder. “We are excited, Adam. But it seems that for every step forward, we take two steps back.”
Adam and the others frowned, and Andrea held a sleeping Jonas closer to her breast. “What has happened?” Adam asked.
The two men looked at each other again. “Why don’t you take Adam and Andrea in the back,” Boudinot told Ross. “I will talk with the others.”
Ross nodded and extended an arm to Adam. “Come on, Adam. Come in the back and sit down. I have coffee. How long have you been on the road?”
“Close to eight hours straight,” Adam replied, his voice seeming distant now. He felt as though the blood was draining from his body. Whatever was wrong, it had to involve his family. Why else would he be singled out? He looked at Andrea, and saw that she was struggling to be strong. Putting an arm around her, he followed John Ross into the back room.
Ross closed the door, rubbed at tired eyes, and then sighed deeply. Adam and Andrea sat down on an old, stuffed loveseat, and Andrea set Jonas on her lap. Ross poured two cups of coffee and brought them over.
“Drink some of this, both of you. Relax for a minute.”
Adam’s eyes hardened, and he shook his head. “I don’t want it. I want to know right now what is going on.”
Andrea accepted a cup with shaking hands and took a swallow. Ross set Adam’s aside. He held Adam’s eyes, and Adam could see the man was visibly trembling. “I want you to remember our vow to remain nonviolent, Adam. If you don’t keep that vow, then anything your family has suffered will be for nothing. Don’t let it be. Your father stuck to his vow, and now you must do the same, or you will ruin the chances of the rest of the People. We all have our sacrifices to make.”
Andrea set her own cup aside, feeling sick inside. Perspiration appeared on Adam’s forehead. “What is it?” His voice was husky, his fists were clenched.
John Ross swallowed. “Your father is dead, Adam. We think it was a heart attack.”
“Oh, no!” Andrea whispered, covering her mouth. Adam just continued to stare at John Ross, his eyes teared.
He rose then, his whole body bristling. “My father was a strong and healthy man for his age. Something caused the heart attack! Tell me the rest!”
John Ross tensed, as though ready to pounce on Adam if he should run off. “It was brought on by a raid—the militia.” He took a deep breath, his heart tightening as a tiny groan came from Andrea. “They…” The man closed his eyes. How could he tell this young man such news? Yet he must. “They raped your mother and sister—several times. Your mother was whipped, your father beaten. They burned both houses.”
Adam stood frozen, his body beginning to shake violently, his eyes smoldering. “My…mother and sister…are alive?”
John Ross nodded. “They’re with Margaret Jessup. I think your mother will recover, but I don’t know about Ruth. I think your mother is trying to be strong for her sake. The girl is half-crazy—keeps talking about her china dolls. She doesn’t even mention the rapes, just the dolls.”
Adam turned and headed for the door. “Adam, wait! Where are you going?”
“They are out there somewhere! The stinking Militia is out there and some of them will die!” He opened the door and John Ross lunged at him. Andrea screamed his name, and set little Jonas on the loveseat. Ross had tackled Adam to the floor, but Adam was bigger and stronger and he quickly threw him off, but he was barely on his feet before five more Cherokees, Boudinot among them, wrestled him back down. Due to Adam’s state of mind, it was almost impossible for the five men to restrain him, so John Ross straddled the struggling, cursing, weeping young man, sitting on his legs.
“Adam, you can’t do it! I told you it’s the worst thing you could do. It was deliberate! Your mother said you knew one of them, a young man who had an eye for your wife once. It was deliberate, don’t you see? He knows you’ll want to come for him! Think of your wife, Adam! If you go after them and are arrested and hung, she’ll be left alone and unprotected!”
Andrea stood staring, terrified. One of the militia men knew her. It could only be Douglas Means! How much longer would it be before he came for her! How could she bear to have his filthy hands touch her, to be humiliated by his men! Ruth! Poor, sweet Ruth! And Rose, such a lovely, gentle woman. And Jonas! She loved him like a father. He couldn’t be dead! No man so kind and good should die that way, seeing his wife and daughter being brutalized.
“I should have been here! I should have been here!” Adam screamed the words, but his struggle was weakening now and unwanted tears were choking him.
“And what if you were,” Ross shouted back at him. “That means Andrea would also have been here. The same thing would have happened to her! Maybe your son would have been killed! Use your head, Adam. It was probably God’s blessing that you were not here!”
Adam’s resistance lessened even more, his body and face bruised from the fierce struggle on the hard floor. “We’re not letting go of you, Adam, until you promise to stay right here and talk this thing out. Right now your mother and sister need you, and so does your wife.”
Little Jonas suddenly started to cry. He had climbed off the loveseat and was crawling toward his father, sure the men were hurting him. Andrea hurriedly picked him up, held him tightly, thanking God that at least her husband and son were all right, and she had been gone when the vile Douglas Means had come to call. She fell to her knees beside Adam.
“Adam, please don’t! Don’t go after them. It’s what they want,” she said pleadingly. “Nothing would make them happier…and they’re expecting you. You wouldn’t have a chance! They’d hang you, and they’d declare war on the Cherokee! Please, Adam!”
He knew she was right. They were all right. But a man had his pride; to have a mother and sister wronged called for vengeance. And his father! His father was his strength, his wisdom. He had always been there to turn to for advice. But he could hear his father warning him that whatever ha
ppened, he must never resort to violence. His body jerked in grieving sobs then, as he muttered the word father in the Cherokee tongue. Andrea clung to a crying Jonas, trying to soothe the boy and the father at the same time, one hand on her husband’s shoulder. Two men let go of Adam and he didn’t move. Two more let go then, and John Ross moved to sit beside him, Elias Boudinot did the same.
“I’m damned sorry that after such a good trip you had to come home to this, Adam,” Ross told the young man. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Boudinot looked up at one of the men. “Go get Doc Cunningham. Maybe he can give Adam something to calm him down.”
“I don’t need anything!” Adam growled. He got to his knees, his body shaking, his face red and bruised, his whole body drenched in sweat. He turned to look at Andrea with wild eyes, reaching out and touching her hair. Then he looked at Ross. “I will keep my stinking vow,” he hissed, sobs breaking his words. “But if they ever…touch my wife…they will die! Do you understand? They will die a slow…and cruel death…even if that means war on the Cherokee Nation!”
Andrea hung her head, rocking little Jonas who clung to her as he shed frightened tears. He had never seen his father this way.
“When your grief settles you’ll see things differently, Adam,” Ross answered.
“I will never see things differently! Never! They will not take this land—and they will not touch my wife!” He got to his feet, stumbling to the door jamb and leaning on to it, hanging his head, and breathing deeply as he attempted to get his thoughts under control. Ruth! Mother! Father! Their homes were gone, burned! He couldn’t even go home! He threw his head back, feeling sick. “There had to be a legal reason,” he groaned. “They couldn’t have done it just for spite, even Douglas Means couldn’t have.” He turned to John Ross, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “It was Douglas Means, wasn’t it?” Ross nodded carefully. “According to your mother.”
“But even the militia has to have some legal reason, no matter how flimsy. What was his trumped-up excuse for burning my home and raping my mother and my sister!”
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