“Fine,” Big Father answered. “Miss Williams will be pleased. She picked that one up the moment he was born.”
The thin man studied Little Indian again, shaking his head. “Imagine, a white woman mixing with an Indian. Makes you feel kind of sick.”
“Well, it takes all kinds. But she paid her price.”
“Too bad you didn’t bring her along. I know what I’d do with the little hussy.”
Both men laughed and Little Indian frowned. Were they talking about his mother again? He wasn’t completely sure who or what she was, yet to hear the men laughing about her made him strangely angry. He scowled at them, wishing he were bigger, for suddenly he didn’t like either of them.
He was herded out then, through the noisy factory to a back alley, where he and the others were hustled into a windowless coach. The door was closed and locked, and they waited, huddled together and cold, while Big Father and the thin man finished their business. Little Indian turned to an older companion, unable to see his face in the darkness but knowing who it was.
“Johnny, what’s a mother?” he asked.
“A mother? You don’t know?”
“No. They said my mother was white.”
“A white woman? By damn, Little Indian, if your ma was white, that makes you a half-breed. You sure look all Indian for being a half-breed.”
“A half-breed?”
“Yeah. Half-Indian, half-white, dummy. Hey, you know that cat that hangs around our place?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, remember a couple of weeks ago, when she had those baby kittens?”
“I remember,” came the little voice, the boy’s heart racing with curiosity.
“Well, that made the cat a mother. The kittens are her kids. That’s what a mother is. You came out of a white woman’s belly, and an Indian man planted you there.”
Little Indian frowned in total confusion. Did the Indian man cut open the white woman and put a seed in her that turned into a baby? And if he came from inside a woman, where was she? Was she bad? Was the Indian man bad?
“You don’t really know, Johnny,” he pouted. “You don’t know about babies and mothers.”
“Sure I do. I heard Miss Andrews tell the big cat to be a good mother. That big cat is the kittens’ mother. And if we have mothers, then they must be people mothers.”
Little Indian scratched his head. “Would Big Father know where my mother is?”
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose somebody does.”
The coach suddenly lurched, and Little Indian fell forward. Hands shoved him away and he settled down between two boys. His mind whirled with wonder. A mother. A white woman had carried him in her belly like the cat had carried the kittens. But the cat had taken care of her kittens. Why hadn’t his mother stayed and taken care of him? What was it like having a mother who licked you clean and gave you milk? He would find out. Someday when he was bigger, he would find out where he came from. He would find this strange mother and ask her why she went away. And he would find the Indian man who had given him his dark skin and hair, and who had deserted him.
The coach rattled on, toward what he’d heard some call an orphanage. He wondered if he would be returned to the noisy factory, and when. He hoped never. He didn’t like the noise, and he didn’t like the thin man or the way the boys who worked there looked. They looked sad and hungry.
Adam looked up from his desk at the newspaper office to see James Bird standing there, his face ashen.
“She’s gone, Adam. I went to see her today, and she’s gone,” he said. James had remained faithful to Ruth since her brutal attack, patiently waiting for the day when she would be well again and they could be married.
Adam frowned. He rose from his desk, rubbing at his still-painful side, although it was nearly healed now. “What do you mean? Did you check the cellar?”
“We checked everywhere. Your mother is beside herself, and Andrea is fretting and blaming herself for not noticing the girl leave the house. Your mother said to come and get you, to ride out to the old place. She’s afraid Ruth went there to find her dolls. If she sees the burned-out houses, Adam…”
Adam was already around the desk and putting on his hat and jacket. “Come on! Did you bring me a horse?”
“Yes. I figured you’d want to go right away. Are you sure you can ride?”
“I can ride, considering the circumstances.”
Both young men rushed outside and mounted up, Adam wincing as he did so. He didn’t really look forward to riding yet, but the sooner they got to Ruth the better.
“All morning your mother and Andrea thought she was in her room,” James told him on the way. “They didn’t realize she was gone until I came and they went to get her. You know how she usually just sits in her room sometimes and won’t come out. They didn’t think anything about it.”
“It isn’t their fault,” Adam answered. “I’ve been noticing a change in her lately. I think she was starting to come out of it. I’ve been a little worried about her.”
It seemed they couldn’t ride fast enough, and Adam was surprised that if Ruth had headed for home, she could have gotten so far on foot. But after twenty minutes of riding he saw a horse in the distance. It looked to him like one that belonged to a neighbor of Martha Bluecrow. In her crazy quest to get home, Ruth must have stolen it. His heart pounded with fear and dread as they approached the blackened ruins of the once-beautiful homes. He hated to look at them and avoided doing so as much as possible.
“Good God!” he suddenly shouted, seeing Ruth stumbling through the ruins, tearing at blackened boards and bricks. He kicked his horse into a faster gallop. Dismounting before it stopped completely, he ran to his sister. “Ruth, get out of there! You’ll get hurt!”
“No!” she screamed. “I want my dolls. Where are my dolls! And where is Father? The house is burned. Didn’t anybody tell him? Find my dolls!”
Adam grabbed her from behind. She kicked wildly, elbowing his side and bringing momentary blackness and pain. But he held on. James was with them then, grasping her legs. As Ruth struggled wildly, they forced her away from the rubble. “No! No! No!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Don’t touch me! Please! Please! Father, make him stop! Make him stop hurting me!”
Adam’s heart was torn. They pushed her to the ground, and he laid on her to hold her down with his weight. James held her arms, and she screamed even louder. Both realized she was reliving the nightmare. Adam grasped her face between strong hands, yelling her name over and over.
“Ruth, it’s me! It’s Adam, your brother! It’s all right, Ruth! It’s over and nobody is going to hurt you!”
They struggled for a good ten minutes until she wearied and he could talk to her without provoking her to shout. Then she broke into deep, heaving sobs, wrenching gasps of humiliation and shame. “You cry, Ruth,” Adam told her, his own eyes tearing. “You cry. You’ve needed to cry for a long time. And when you get up, you show us how strong a Cherokee woman can be. You hear me, Ruth? You didn’t do anything wrong and you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. James is right here, and he loves you. He’s never stopped loving you. He’s come to see you every single day since your attack, and that was six months ago!”
She stared at him, quieting more. “Six…months?”
He nodded. “Your mind left you, Ruth. We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us. Mother will be so happy to have you back.”
She stared up at her beloved brother, her breathing quickening again. “Mother! They did terrible things to her, too…didn’t they?”
“It’s over, Ruth. Watching the effect on you was hardest on her. You have to get well, Ruth. For her. She needs you. We…we don’t have Father anymore.”
Her tears came again, this time accompanied by pitiful sobs of grief. He sat up then, cradling her in his arms, rocking her. “We’ll make it, Ruth. You’ll see. We’re still fighting. Andrea and I are back, and Andrea is pregnant again. We’re living with the widow,
Martha Bluecrow. You’ve got to be strong now, Ruth, for Mother’s sake. It’s what Father would want. We won’t let them beat us. If you stand up strong and lead a normal life now, then you’ve won, don’t you see?”
She clung to his shirt, weeping. “You…don’t know!” she sobbed. “He said…terrible things…about Andrea.”
His grip on her tightened. “He’ll never touch Andrea. If he does, he’ll die. I wanted to go after him when I found out about you and Mother, but they stopped me. They won’t stop me the next time.”
“No! Don’t go after them! I don’t want to lose you, Adam!”
He kissed her hair. “It isn’t me you should rely on so much anymore, Ruth. It’s James. He still loves you. He’s standing right here, and I think you two should be alone.”
He got up, pulling her up with him. As she clung to him, hanging her head, James reached out with a shaking hand and touched her hair. “Don’t do that, Ruth,” he said, his voice full of grief. “Don’t hang your head like that. Look at me.”
Adam carefully let go of her, pushing her toward James. As that young man put his arms around her, Adam turned away. “We’d better get in closer to town before you do too much talking,” he told them, mounting up. “It’s too dangerous out here.” He picked up the reins of Ruth’s horse. “You ride with Ruth in front of you, James. She should be close to you.” He rode forward, walking his horse several yards before looking back to see James lift Ruth onto his mount. Then the young man climbed up behind her and reached around her to pick up the reins. Adam turned away again, wiping at tears. He liked James. Ruth would be all right now, with a little more healing time. And James Bird would show her the gentle side of man, make it all brand-new for her. If anything could erase horror, it was love, and he vowed that no horror that ever came between him and Andrea would destroy their love. All they had to do was cling to that love…and remember the oak tree and those first sweet days of happiness and discovery.
He felt a chill at Ruth’s words—He said terrible things about Andrea—and he longed to seek out Douglas Means and slaughter the man. Perhaps someday he would have to do that after all.
December came, a month of relative peace when a few things brought some happiness to the Chandlers. Early in the month Ruth married James Bird, and on December twentieth, John Ross Chandler was born to Andrea and Adam. With only Martha Bluecrow and Rose to aid in the birth, Adam had stayed by Andrea’s side. Without his presence, she would have been terrified, but this birth had gone well. The baby had come quickly, a strong boy with lighter coloring than his older brother, a grand mixture that resulted in a tawny brown skin and sandy hair. The boy had his mother’s blue eyes, and his hair was curly. His birth again brought on the old longing to know where their first son might be. He was going on five years old, and Andrea had insisted that they give him a name and stop referring to him as the first baby. She’d named him Nathan Peter, and had declared that they would call him Nathan and speak of him as though he were a part of the family, for in their hearts he was, wherever he might be. She would not allow anyone to forget him, nor would she ever stop hoping that someday she would see her first son.
Christmas was as happy as could be expected under the circumstances. Special services were held for the reverend and the doctor and the other missionaries who were suffering in prison. At the widow Bluecrow’s house, gifts were exchanged, mostly hand-knitted items or toys made by Adam. There was not a lot of money for such things now, but it mattered little. What mattered was that they were together and well. Little John Ross was only five days old, and eighteen-month-old Jonas toddled everywhere now, getting into mischief whenever he could, the cause of much laughter and commotion during the opening of presents.
That winter was mild, the nights cold, and most days requiring little more than a sweater. And all of the Cherokee Nation waited for a Supreme Court decision that could affect their entire future. Georgia’s right to rule over the Cherokees was being tested in the highest court of the land, due to the plight of the missionaries who had been arrested and condemned to hard labor. Attorney Wirt carried the case to an appeal in the Supreme Court, declaring that the Constitutional rights of the missionaries had been violated, since they were citizens of the United States, invited to the Cherokee Nation by the Cherokees under a valid treaty with the United States and therefore exempt from Georgia law. If there was any wrongdoing, it should have been handled by the federal courts, which have jurisdiction over the Indians. The argument was a delicate one, as the President had declared all Indians within Georgia’s borders to be under Georgia’s rule. But the clever Cherokees had the Supreme Court, the federal government and the state government all arguing among themselves as to who truly had control over the Cherokees, and whether or not early treaties with the United States were still valid.
One missionary was chosen to represent all, in a case that was to become famous as Worcester v. The State of Georgia. John Ross, Adam, and the entire Cherokee Nation waited through that long and tense winter for the outcome, the final decision of the United States Supreme Court, which would decide not only the fate of the missionaries, but the fate of the entire Cherokee Nation by determining whether Georgia had the power to enforce their removal. For if the court declared in favor of Worcester and the missionaries, the Cherokees would be under the control of the federal government and not the State of Georgia.
Chapter Nineteen
The decision was handed down on February 28, 1832, but the news did not reach New Echota until two weeks later. Adam had wanted to go with John Ross and be present during those final days of deliberation, but he was afraid to leave Andrea, who was constantly haunted by the threat of the militia. It was mid-March when he came barging into the house half stumbling from too much whiskey. He rarely allowed himself to drink, for already many of his friends had fallen into almost constant drunkenness, seeing no hope for the future. White traders roamed the perimeter of Cherokee land, selling firewater to now listless Cherokees, glad to take the dwindling Indian money, for the sooner they broke the Cherokees financially, the sooner the Indians would have to go.
But the news from the United States Supreme Court gave even the most destitute new hope. Adam grinned, holding up his bottle. “It is time to celebrate!” he told Andrea and his mother. “James is going to his home to get Ruth, and tonight we will dance—all night long!”
Andrea smiled. She could not be angry that he was drinking, for to see him so happy warmed her heart. It had been a long time since she had seen her husband so elated.
“What happened, Adam?”
He laughed and took another drink. “I don’t think I’ll tell you. I’ll make you wait.”
“Adam Chandler!” Andrea rose from her chair and walked over to hug him. “You tell me right now, or I’ll—”
He took her lips, making a moaning sound like a man in ecstasy; suddenly wanting her, his joy making all his other senses come alive. She was slim and shapely again, and he decided his beautiful wife seemed to get more beautiful with each child. “You will what,” he answered, crushing her tight against him. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Adam!” She reddened deeply. “Your mother is sitting right in front of us!” She shoved him away playfully. “Now tell us what you’re so happy about.”
He bowed low to them both. “Chief Justice John Marshall and his esteemed colleagues, have declared that Georgia’s prosecution of the missionaries was unconstitutional, and has reversed the state’s judgment. Reverend Jessup and the others must be set free.”
Rose’s eyes teared with relief, and Andrea hugged him again. “Oh, Adam, is it true? I can’t believe it! Finally a decision for our side!”
He laughed and whirled her around. “It is the same as declaring that the Cherokee are not under Georgia’s control,” he told them. “This gives us a strong defense for staying on our beloved land.” He picked her up in his strong arms. “Watch the boys, Mother. I am taking Andrea upstairs.”
“Adam! It’
s the middle of the day!”
“So? Is there a law against a man making love to his wife in the middle of the day?”
“Adam Chandler! James and Ruth might be here at any minute.”
“I have a feeling James is going to do the same thing I am doing, Mrs. Chandler. He has had his own share of whiskey, and there is much to celebrate.” As he whisked her up the stairs, Rose smiled and shook her head. It was good to see her son so happy, good to know Ruth was healing, good to have her grandsons at her feet. Jonas toddled to the stairs and tried to follow, but his grandmother ordered him to stay put.
“Tonight we will dance all night, and I will get so drunk I will not be able to make love to you at all,” Adam told his wife with a laugh as he carried her through the doorway. “So we’d better do this now, woman.” He threw her on the bed, and she screamed lightly. Then he laughed and quickly removed his shirt, kicking the door shut before coming over and falling onto the bed beside her. Grabbing her close, he kissed her hungrily, and she felt more passion and desire than she had for a long time, for fear and tension did not haunt her. She was with her beautiful man, and he needed her; that was all that mattered. His kisses were hard, his movements deliberate and demanding, the whiskey heightening his need of her. Clothes came off amid kisses and suggestive words and laughter, and soon they lay naked, hands and lips exploring and tasting and enjoying. He was full of love for her, glorying in her beauty and loyalty and devotion, proud of her for giving him two sons and for having to live with the loss of a third just because she had loved a Cherokee man.
Andrea responded with an explosion of desire, and he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. To her it was an act of reckless abandon, making love to him this way, and in the light of day she could not help but redden as he drove into her, then ran his hands along her slender thighs, over her stomach and up to her full breasts.
Heart's Surrender Page 31