In spite of the difficulty of communicating, word did leak out now and then about what was happening to the Cherokees. There was still considerable sympathy in the North, where the freed missionaries spoke in behalf of the Indians. Margaret Jessup and her children, as well as other missionary families, had long since left Cherokee country, to wait in the North for their husbands’ release. There were no whites left on Cherokee land now, other than spouses of the Indians, but many in the North continued to fight in their behalf. People complained that Andrew Jackson’s government protected only the white race, and that Indians and slaves had no protection at all. The meaning of a free America was questioned, the very core of government was questioned; and Georgia became even more angry when the question of slavery kept being brought up along with the Indian problem. Fear of the North making an issue of slavery, possibly trying to abolish it, made Georgia’s citizens even more anxious to get the Indians out so that things would calm down, and they became more determined to prove they were right on both the Indian and the slavery issues. With slavery being brought into the picture, other Southern states began to rally behind Georgia.
During the entire year of 1832, while the missionaries were still imprisoned, the militia had brutalized the Cherokees, yet there was a faint hope for the Indians. It was an election year, and Jackson’s opponent was Henry Clay, a National Republican and a strong advocate of Indian rights. Clay’s running mate was John Sergeant, the attorney from Pennsylvania who had fought for the Cherokees. A third party, called the Anti-Masonic party and composed primarily of the religious persons in the North, also ran against Jackson, led by William Wirt, the attorney who had taken the Cherokee missionaries’ case to the Supreme Court. But with two Indian sympathizers running, it was thought that the votes for Jackson would be split up enough to keep him from winning.
But many who were in sympathy with the Indians voted for Andrew Jackson, afraid that with so much shouting pro and con, the country’s unity would suffer without the firm hand of Andrew Jackson. More and more Cherokees withdrew to the hills, some of them living in caves. Indians still hanging on in other states were also suffering. More Choctaws were shipped out. The Seminoles retreated into the Florida swamps. The Creeks were rooted out of their strongholds and sent west, the men in chains. More and more Southern states felt they must get rid of the Indians and quiet down public outcry so as to draw attention away from the slavery issue.
Andrea fretted because her sons were not getting enough sunshine and fresh air, for she was terrified of letting them play alone outside, and terrified of being outside herself. She feared Douglas Means might find their cabin and drag her off. Adam’s heart ached for his family. He felt badly about his inability to provide a good home for them, and about his sad neglect of his sons. He wanted to play with them, ride with them, teach them so many things. But it was impossible. His days and nights were spent at meetings, while Andrea taught them their letters and numbers as best she could. She tried to keep their family life as calm and normal as possible, while Adam fretted over newspaper articles and petitions. And still they fought. They printed the Cherokee Phoenix, refusing to halt the newspaper unless the militia came through New Echota and destroyed it, and John Ross and others ran back and forth to Washington to cope with more legal snags and to make personal pleas for help.
But a dangerous split was beginning to come about, the split John Ross had feared would come. The poorest Cherokees left their little farms and fled to the hills where they lived in huts and caves. The wealthier ones who chose to fight also abandoned their homes, took to the hills, and built themselves reasonably comfortable cabins. But it was becoming more and more obvious that among the wealthy only certain men were singled out for harassment and beatings and confiscation of property—those who fought Removal. The others were left alone, and all knew that informants and traitors were becoming more numerous. Some of the wealthier Cherokees, afraid of losing everything, were now speaking in favor of Removal, insisting it would be best after all, for the safety and health of the people. In some respects they were right, for fighting it was surely a losing battle. But in the heat of love and passion for one’s land and one’s rights, common sense does not always prevail. Anyone speaking for Removal was considered a traitor, and both factions were gaining a following. The very split Georgians had hoped for was coming to the Cherokees, the split that would weaken them.
Leaders of the pro-Removal group emerged—John Ridge and Elias Boudinot among them. During the heated controversy, whether they were right or wrong did not seem to matter. Hatred was building, a hatred that Adam could see would last for years, and in his own heart he knew he could never forgive those who were giving up, nor would he ever forgive Luke Cloud.
Passions and loyalties came to a head in late 1834, when Adam gathered everyone in front of the fireplace after three-and-a-half-year-old Jonas and two-year-old John were asleep. Andrea watched her husband. He was twenty-four now, but had the countenance and air of someone much older, as well he should. He had been through a lifetime in the past four or five years, or so it seemed. At twenty-two she looked even younger than her years, but felt much older. Their happy days under the oak tree seemed to have occurred a hundred years ago, but their lovemaking, though less frequent because of their situation, remained sweet and beautiful, and was made more precious by the transient condition of their day-to-day life. They were man and woman now, yet young enough to be enjoying life to the fullest. But hatred and greed had deprived them of the peace and happiness they deserved.
“There is a bad split among the people,” Adam told them, lighting a pipe. “John Ridge and Boudinot are furious because John Ross came back from Washington to tell us he refused an offer of three million dollars from President Jackson to get out.”
“Three million!” James whistled. “That is a lot of money, Adam.”
“Not when you divide it among thousands of families.” He puffed on the pipe. “Besides, it’s the principle of the thing. But I figured you should know. We all have to decide. It’s getting down to the worst now, and I want to take a vote right here and now among all of you. From here on we’ll get pushed back into the hills. I no longer hold any high hopes of winning this thing, but John Ross still thinks it’s possible, and what we’ve come down to is a matter of pride and a belief in what is right. I’ll stay and fight until they put a bayonet in my belly and force me to go. I need to know what the rest of you want to do.”
James took Ruth’s hand. “We’re staying, no matter what, even though Ruth is pregnant.” Ruth put a hand to her swollen stomach. She considered her baby a gift from God to help her forget the horrors of the past. She still lived in fear of the future, but she would have her baby. And she had her brother’s stubborn will. “I want to stay,” she told Adam.
Their eyes held and he nodded, then shifted his eyes to his mother. She held up her chin defiantly. “I stay, in honor of your father’s memory. I will not run, not after he died fighting to stay.”
“I’m too old to care what happens to me,” Martha Bluecrow declared, scratching at a wrinkled cheek. “I’ll stay and fight the bastards!”
Everyone grinned a little. “We will stay to the end, too,” James’s father stated. “We have come too far to give up now.”
Adam’s eyes moved to Andrea, and she smiled for him. “You know my answer.” He saw the fear in her eyes, and loved her all the more. “Wherever you go, I go. Just remember your promise. Someday that land will be yours again, and we will sit under the oak tree.”
He blinked back tears and puffed on the pipe again. “It’s settled then. We all stand behind John Ross. And I intend to make sure plenty of others do the same. If Elias Boudinot and John Ridge want to run off just to protect their riches, let them. I hope they can live with themselves later. In their hearts I suppose they think they’re right, that it’s best for the People. But right now I cannot make myself believe it’s anything but an effort to save their precious wealth. They’ll end
up taking money from the government to get out, and they’ll no doubt have a nice safe, comfortable journey, but I would rather sleep with snakes than take something from the government and run at this point. Still, if any of you changes his or her mind, I will understand. We have nothing left now. You wouldn’t be leaving just to protect possessions. Ruth, you and my mother have already suffered too much. You needn’t take any more risks. It’s your choice, and I will love you whether you stay or go.”
“You know we won’t go, Adam,” Ruth told him. “Save your speeches for the others. They aren’t needed here with your family. We love you, and are proud of everything you have done. And we have our Cherokee pride to think of.”
Adam sighed and rubbed at tired eyes. “And I love all of you.” He tamped out his pipe and set it on the mantel. Everyone quietly watched him, but he said nothing more. He hurried out of the room, going to his bedroom and closing the door.
“Three million dollars!” James murmured. “Ol’ Jackson must be getting desperate, huh? We’re sure giving them a run for it!”
Andrea stared at the bedroom door, but she did not go to her husband. She knew he needed to be alone for now, knew the terrible weight that he carried. If she could lighten it, she would gladly do so. But there was nothing she could do, other than stand at his side through whatever was to come.
Chapter Twenty
Government payoffs and promises of safety became more and more evident, as the homes and property of the wealthier Cherokees who had fought Removal were seized by the militia. John Ross soon found himself and his family homeless, and he joined those who had moved farther into the hills. Yet the land of the wealthy Cherokee who preached Removal remained untouched. All avenues to education were closed. All gatherings ended. The office of the Phoenix was ransacked and the paper was put out of business. The militia moved into Cherokee country, setting up headquarters in taverns and stables, in former mission buildings, in schools and council houses.
During 1834 seven hundred Cherokees gave up the struggle and journeyed westward, and tragedy followed as it had followed the others who had undertaken the trip to a new land. Eighty-one of them died of measles and cholera, forty-five of them under the age of ten, and half of those who survived the trip died from yet another cholera epidemic in Indian Territory. Then a further blow came to John Ross’s dream of winning his battle when the American Mission Board decided it would no longer continue its work among the Cherokees remaining in Georgia, considering the brutal treatment of the missionaries who had already worked among them. Missionaries were sent instead to aid the Cherokees heading west and to help them once they’d arrived at their destination.
Still, those who believed in John Ross remained totally devoted to their leader. Most of them lived in the woods and hills now, obeying the order that they must not retaliate against those who came to brutalize and harass them. All firmly believed that by remaining nonviolent the injustices committed against them would rally the hearts of the American people and bring pressure against the government to let the Cherokees stay.
While they were attacked from the outside, the Cherokees were splitting apart from within. Pro-Removal Indians called for a vote, declaring that John Ridge should be their leader rather than John Ross, but the majority of the remaining Cherokees overwhelmingly chose John Ross to continue to represent them. Upon Ross’s arrival in Washington, however, he was surprised to find that John Ridge and some of his supporters had come by another route, to appear in Washington and declare that many Cherokees were now in favor of Removal. John Ross’s efforts in Congress to win anti-Removal favor were overshadowed by the appearance of the Ridge men, who made it impossible for him to get enough support against Removal.
The division was becoming even greater. The President declared he would deal only with John Ridge and his men, but since John Ross was the elected president of the Cherokees, Ridge could not truly speak for the People. A new offer of five million dollars was made, but Ross again turned it down, causing hot arguments among the Cherokee leaders once they got home.
Adam walked behind the cabin with Andrea. The morning was quiet, and they had awakened early, had quietly come together and shared bodies, fearing that today could be their last day of peace for a long time to come. Removal seemed to be inevitable now, yet Adam would not give up on John Ross. He would not desert the man, nor would he leave his homeland without one last struggle.
They walked together, enjoying the beautiful early summer morning. Dew still blanketed grass and leaves, and the forest was alive with birds and spring wildflowers.
“In moments like this, everything is peaceful and beautiful,” Andrea said quietly, looking up at the tall cedars and oaks, the pine and walnut trees. “It seems there is no militia, no Indian Removal, no hatred and greed. Why can’t men just leave each other alone? What’s so terrible about the Cherokee living here in their own land? Sometimes I just can’t grasp it all, Adam.”
He led her to a wooden bench, on which they sat down. He kept an arm around her, and she rested her head on his strong shoulder. His dark eyes drank in the rays of sun piercing the canopy of leaves in a splendid display. A squirrel dashed in front of them, chattering as it rustled through fallen leaves from last autumn, then scampering up a walnut tree. Adam’s throat was tight at the thought of leaving this beautiful land. He missed his farm, the happy days there, his home, the old oak tree. How could he leave these hills? He loved the land as much as he loved the woman who sat beside him now. He kissed her hair.
“I don’t understand it either, Andrea. Never once did we commit one wrong against the people of Georgia. Every argument we have presented in the Georgia courts and to the Supreme Court has been valid and undeniable. It’s like pointing to the sun and having someone say it isn’t there. They take the bold truth and throw it to the wind, and for only one reason. They want this land. It is valuable, fertile, beautiful—and gold lies beneath it in some places. It’s jealousy, Andrea. Plain jealousy. Jealousy can be a mean, vengeful, ugly thing. It can destroy.” He sighed and took his arm away, taking a pipe from his pocket and packing it with tobacco from a pouch he carried at his waist.
Andrea watched him. He was twenty-five now, an extremely handsome man with dark, moving eyes and a very masculine build. He was strong, not just physically, but emotionally; intelligent, determined. Her heart ached for him, for what he was going through, yet she knew that if he was forced to leave his country, he would do so with head held high, with the knowledge that at least he had fought for his rights and gone down fighting. The Cherokee had thrown the state and federal governments off their course over and over again, stumping them with truth and fact, slowing them because of the overwhelming support of the religious communities of the North, as well as the support of many Southern citizens. Their fight had delayed Removal for years, but now things were fast coming to a head. Andrea worried as much about the strife from within as she did about the attacks from without.
Adam lit his pipe and puffed on it for a moment. When Andrea watched him, she sometimes shivered at the pleasant realization that this handsome man she was looking at had bedded her, had planted his seed in her, touched and explored her, owned her. Her love for him bordered on worship. She would follow him into the pits of hell if necessary, just to be with Adam Chandler. He turned and met her blue eyes, grinning as she reddened.
“All right, woman, what were you just thinking?”
She laughed lightly and looked away. “Just about you…about this morning…how beautiful you are…how much I love you.”
His eyes ran over her slender form. She seemed to get more beautiful every year, and she was exquisite and charming—a strong woman who had held up well under adversity. She had given him two beautiful sons, and lived with the ache of wondering about the third. Sometimes, to him, she was still the little Andrea he had teased and cajoled into lying naked with him under the oak tree, the girl who had let him claim her virginity in that first beautiful and exciting union.
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“I love you, Andrea,” he said softly. “Do I tell you enough?”
She met his eyes then, drinking in his manly handsomeness. “You tell me all the time. Do I tell you enough?”
He grinned. “You don’t have to say it in words. Just being here, hidden away in the forest risking all kinds of abuse to stay at my side, that says it more than words.” He turned away then, resting his elbows on his knees and puffing at the pipe again. “There is a lot of hatred amongst our own people now. It worries me. Some talk about chasing off John Ridge and Elias Boudinot. Some even talk of killing them.”
She studied him closely, put a hand on his arm. “And you?”
He kept puffing the pipe and staring at the cabin. “I’ve thought of it,” he finally replied. “I think they’re totally wrong, yet I can’t bring myself to do them harm because I think in their minds they believe they’re right. They really believe it would be best for us to go peacefully, and in the end perhaps they will be right. But I can’t do it, Andrea. I just can’t do it. I’m sorry, because it will probably mean great danger for us all, a lot of hardship and abuse. There are missionaries in the North who would gladly take in you and the boys. Or maybe you have relatives farther south—”
“No! I won’t leave you. Don’t make me leave you, Adam!”
“You could always join me later, after all this hell is over with.”
“No! I’m as much Cherokee now as you are. Your sons are Cherokee. I won’t leave you to face this alone. Together, we’ll protect and care for the boys. We’ll be all right, Adam. It’s my decision. I’m ready for whatever is to come.”
Heart's Surrender Page 33