Heart's Surrender

by Rosanne Bittner

  He strained to see in front of him, to see if his boys were there, if his mother and sister were all right. He hoped by some miracle Andrea was with them, but he knew deep inside she was not. The choking dust from the wagons ahead prevented him from seeing anything, and the wagon to which he was attached was empty. His wrists were cuffed, and heavy chains attached the cuffs to an iron latch embedded into the tailgate of the wagon. Horror and anger engulfed him anew, and he began to tug again, not caring that his wrists were bleeding and raw now, one cut nearly to the bone. Rage at the thought of Andrea with Douglas Means consumed him, and he growled like an animal, tugging, tugging, his powerful muscles made stronger by sheer determination. Over and over he yanked, until he saw the tailgate weakening. The driver looked back once and yelled at him to stop making so much ruckus, but minutes later the wood of the tailgate splintered. Adam fell backward, but was immediately back on his feet and running, dragging the chains and tailgate board with him. Andrea! He must get to Andrea and he must kill Douglas Means. He could not go on living if he didn’t kill Douglas Means. His mother and Ruth had been bad enough, but Andrea!

  It seemed he was running very fast, but in reality, because of his injuries and the heavy chains and board he was dragging, he was only moving at a rapid walk, and half stumbling at that. It was only moments before a net came over him.

  “Chain the bastard back up!” someone shouted. “Throw him in the wagon and chain his arms and legs!”

  “I can’t believe it!” Someone else laughed. “This one’s as strong as a grizzly!”

  Adam fought wildly. No! He’d gotten free! He had to go to Andrea! He had to kill Douglas Means! He growled like a bear, kicking and fighting the net while he felt himself being dragged over the ground. He was picked up then, and landed hard in a wagon bed, where strong hands grabbed his wrists and ankles. Cuffs went around them, and a moment later he found himself chained by both arms and both legs. He cried out his anguish, still fighting to get loose.

  “I never saw anything like it,” someone commented.

  “This one’s got a white woman. I guess they fight harder for their white women than for their Indian women.”

  More laughter.

  “Well, if the bastard got himself inside a white woman, there’s only one way to quiet him.”

  The next instant a grueling blow struck Adam’s privates, sending him into spiraling blackness. His cries of agony echoed against rock walls, and in another wagon farther ahead Rose grasped her two grandsons close and wept. Adam could not even curl up against the pain, which made it even worse for him.

  “That will quiet him for a while.” Someone laughed. “Let’s get them to the holding camp. The Federals can take over then. They’ll have a high time handling this one.”

  The wagon started moving again, and a bright morning sun shone down into Adam’s face. He fought the horrible, black pain now, determined to draw on that deep, inner spirit rarely found in any man not of Indian blood. He would overcome anything and everything. He would let nothing stop him. He had lost everything. But there was one thing he must do before he left this earth. He must kill Douglas Means. He began to pray for strength, only now he did not pray to the white man’s God. He prayed to Esaugetuh Emissee, Maker of Breath.

  The wagons rolled in, along with hundreds of others from all directions, while thousands of Cherokees walked beside and behind them, the last holdouts, now forced at gun and bayonet point to walk to the prison camps where they would be held until preparations were completed for moving them westward. Other than some crying, the thousands of Cherokees were relatively quiet. Even during these last acts of brutality they remained nonviolent.

  Adam felt his cuffs coming off. He remained calm for the moment, telling himself that to fight would only mean constant chains. How was he to get away and kill Douglas Means if he was chained? Someone jerked him out of the wagon.

  “This one is to be kept chained to a post outside the camp,” someone ordered. “He’s one of the leaders, and he’s a troublemaker. You’ll have a time on your hands with the others if he’s allowed to mix with them.”

  “What the hell happened to him?”

  The voice caused Adam to look up into the eyes of a federal lieutenant. The man was middle-aged, his brown eyes had a sympathetic look to them, and he had an air of intelligence and breeding. He was a far cry from the sort of man who made up the Georgia Militia.

  “I told you, Lieutenant. He’s a troublemaker. Some of them take a little more ‘convincing’ than others.”

  The lieutenant looked Adam over. “This man is a mess.” He turned his eyes to the militia man. “I’m tired of you men bringing in whipped and battered people, especially women. I intend to report this to my superior. I think the militia should be removed from this project.”

  The Georgia man shrugged. “Do what you want, Lieutenant. We know the Cherokee better than you. If you don’t treat them rough, they’ll burrow into these hills like worms and we’ll never get them all out. You gotta know how to handle them. Besides”—the man spit out a wad of tobacco juice—“Georgia stands behind us. Our governor don’t like you guys havin’ any part of this affair, so if you speak up too much, it might be you that’s kicked off the job rather than us.” As the man laughed lightly and walked away, the lieutenant turned to a couple of his own men. “Get some medical aid for this man. Chain him to that post over there and rig up something so he gets a little shade. Chain him by one wrist only. I can’t see him having every limb in manacles.”

  “My wife!” Adam groaned, swallowing back the pain. “They’ve got…my wife!”

  The lieutenant frowned. “I’m sure your wife is fine, and is among those in the other wagons that came in with you.”

  “No! You don’t understand! One of the militia men has her! He took her away. He’ll rape her! Good God, man, he’ll rape her and whip her! Somebody has to go and get her!”

  Someone clamped a cuff on his wrist then, and several men pulled Adam over to a post, where they wrapped and secured his chain. But Adam had caught a glint of sympathy in the eyes of the lieutenant, and he would not give up. Again he began to tug at his chain, gritting his teeth, unable to control his anger as he had planned.

  “Please help me!” he shouted to the lieutenant. “Send some men to get my wife! Douglas Means! She’s with Douglas Means. He’s an officer in the Georgia Militia. He took her away when they raided our house!” The lieutenant started to turn away. “Damn you, help her! She’s white. My wife is white! Andrea! Andrea Chandler. I’m Adam Chandler. If you won’t help an Indian woman, then for God’s sake help one of your own kind!”

  The lieutenant turned and studied Adam a moment. He’d heard of Adam Chandler. The man was right up there in the ranks of John Ross. Some of these Cherokee men were amazingly intelligent. He’d heard John Ross give a talk once, and he highly respected the man. He’d come on this mission out of sympathy for the Cherokee, although he had been careful not to let it show. He had a job to do, and he truly believed that in the long run it was best for the Indians to go west. But he regretted their fate. He walked back to Adam and knelt down near him.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Go and see for yourself! My wife is not with the others.” Tears came to Adam’s eyes then. “She is with Douglas Means. I cannot…explain it all now…but he has been after my wife for a long time…because he knew her once and hated her…for marrying an Indian. He attacked my family years ago…raped my younger sister when she was still a virgin…and let his men rape my mother and whip her. My father…died that night. Now he has Andrea! Please help her!”

  The lieutenant frowned. “Good God, man, do such things really go on?”

  Adam breathed a sigh of frustration. “Of course! If more people had known, had seen…” His chest heaved in a sob. “What if it was your mother, or your sister…your wife? Wouldn’t you want to scream and kill? Wouldn’t you want to go after them, even if it meant losing your life? Please…get her away from t
hem!”

  The lieutenant studied him, seeing the agony in Adam Chandler’s eyes. The young man’s body was badly beaten and bleeding. His wrists were raw, nearly to the bone. He had fought to help his family, as any man would and should do. He was not a troublemaker. He had only reacted the way any man would react when his family was threatened. The lieutenant had seen too many broken bodies and hopeless faces today. He sighed and removed his hat, ran a hand through his hair.

  “I’ll see what I can do. I think Means and his men are supposed to camp not far from here tonight. We move everyone out in two days to bigger prison camps.”

  “Soon! Make it soon, or it will be too late!” Adam jerked at his chain. “Let me loose! Let me go to my sons and the rest of my family.”

  The lieutenant eyed him warily. “I have orders to keep you separate, Chandler. You’re a leader. Besides, I have a suspicion you want to be loose for another reason than going to your sons. I’ll see about your wife.” The man rose. “I’ll send a man to tend to your wounds and bring you some water.”

  “My sons! I want to see them, to know they are all right. Please, go and find them. Jonas and John are their names. They are only eight and six. Please find them and walk them out here where I can see them!”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  The man turned away, and Adam slumped against the post, his body screaming from physical and mental agony. His mouth was parched, his lips cracked. Everything hurt, but he could not let anything stop him from somehow getting his revenge if Douglas Means had violated his wife. His nerves cried out for action. The lieutenant was moving too slowly! Something must be done now! Again he tugged at his chain. Perhaps if he broke his wrist or found a way to cut off his hand…He cursed the fact that he had no knife or any kind of weapon. His helplessness made him crazed.

  A medic came over and gave him water, then washed his wounds as best he could. Adam sat quietly and let the man work. If he was to kill Douglas Means, he had to rest and let his body heal as best as possible. The medic decided he had one cracked rib, and he wrapped Adam’s middle. He left with a promise to find Adam’s family and to get him a clean shirt and something for his feet, which were bloody and raw from walking behind the wagon without being allowed to put on shoes.

  Hours passed. Meanwhile Adam sat in the broiling sun. It was midsummer, 1838, and it was an especially hot summer in Georgia. He had no doubt that the bigger holding camps would not be on Georgia soil. He prayed they would be in Tennessee rather than Alabama. There was more sympathy for the Cherokee in Tennessee. Either way, it was doubtful the camps would be better than bearable. The comfortable life they had once known was gone, and would not be found again for a long time to come. Now they would all have to draw on a deep inner strength to overcome what lay ahead. How many would die? What about his own children?

  Finally some soldiers put up a canvas strip that shaded him from the hot sun. But even the camps afforded little shade, from what he could see of the fenced-in compounds. Where were his precious sons? What was happening to Andrea? And what about his mother, and Ruth?

  It was late afternoon before the lieutenant finally came walking toward Adam, holding the hands of two young boys.

  “Father!” Both broke loose and ran when they saw him. They were barefoot and wore only pants and shirts. Adam reached out with his free arm and hugged them tightly, unable to control his own tears. At least his sons were all right.

  “Where’s Mommy?” John asked.

  “She’ll be along,” Adam reassured the boy. “We’ll find her and get her back. Mommy will be fine.”

  “Father, why are you chained?” Jonas asked, wiping at tears. “We want you with us.” He reached out and touched his father’s battered face. “Why did they hurt you so much?”

  “I guess they just think I’m a troublemaker, Jonas. I helped John Ross fight to let us stay…in Georgia. They think I’ll make everything worse if they unchain me and let me be with you.”

  “Please make them let you go,” Jonas answered, his eyes tearing over again. “We’re scared without you.”

  Adam hugged them again. “I’ll get loose eventually.” He kissed both of them, and wiped at his own tears. The lieutenant stood aside, unable to help but moved by the sight. Something was very wrong about how all of this was being done, and he wondered how he would feel if someone barged into his home and beat him and dragged off his wife and children. “How is Grandma, and Aunt Ruth?” Adam was asking them.

  “Grandma is okay, but she’s pretty tired,” Jonas answered. “Aunt Ruth looks real scared all the time and won’t talk to us. She just hangs on to Cousin Charlie and won’t let go of him.”

  Adam looked up at the lieutenant. “Thank you for bringing them.”

  “I’m afraid I have to take them right back. I was not supposed to do this at all. It isn’t wise to show any sympathy. However, I will go after your wife. I have two men ready and we’re leaving shortly.”

  Adam’s eyes lit up with hope. “Boys, you go back now. The sooner you go back the sooner the lieutenant can go after your mother. He’s going to get her. Don’t you be afraid of anything from now on. Everything will be all right.”

  The two boys stood up, their round, angelic faces tearing at his heart. “I tried to help you, Father, but they kept pushing me back.”

  “I know, son. It’s all right.” He noticed a small bruise on the boy’s right cheek. “Did they hit you?”

  The boy held up his chin. “I’m okay. They can’t hurt Jonas Chandler!”

  Adam looked at the lieutenant. “Look at his cheek and then ask me why I tug at these chains until my skin is gone!” His anger was building all over again at the thought of grown men hitting his son. The lieutenant sighed and gently pushed the boys aside. He knelt down near Adam.

  “I’m sorry, Chandler. I can’t prevent every act of brutality.”

  “But you could let me go!” Adam growled in a husky voice. “Please! Let me go so that I can avenge my wife!”

  “You know I can’t do a thing like that, Chandler. And what would it get you? You have to be with your sons and your family. Such a revenge would only get you hung. And you don’t even know yet if it’s necessary. Your wife might be perfectly fine.”

  Adam grinned bitterly. “Don’t be such a fool, Lieutenant! You should have gone right away.” His eyes teared. “It is too late now.” He jerked at his chain again. “Just think how you would feel in my shoes. You think about it! And then you will find a way to let me escape!”

  The lieutenant frowned and rose. “You are a prisoner, Adam Chandler, and you shall stay a prisoner. It’s that kind of talk that will keep you chained to that post. I totally disagree with this entire movement, yet there is no stopping it, and I will do my part to the best of my ability. I said I would see about your wife. That’s the best I can do.”

  He turned and took the boys’ hands to lead them back to the camp. They kept turning to look back at their father, their dirty faces stained with tears. Adam’s heart went out to them. He knew the terror they must be feeling. Yes, he needed to be with them, but he also needed to kill Douglas Means. He rested against the post again, praying for Andrea. The lieutenant disappeared into the holding camp, and Adam realized he didn’t even know the man’s name. Everything was strange and confusing now, their lives turned upside down. He wondered if anything could ever be normal for them again. Andrea! Andrea!

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Dusk was heavy in the air when the lieutenant returned. Adam saw the makeshift travois being drawn behind the horse of one of his men. Why would they need a travois, unless Andrea was dead or badly wounded. “Andrea!” He screamed her name, yanking on the chain like a wild animal. The lieutenant looked his way and urged his horse out of formation. Ordering his men to take the travois into the fenced prison camp, he headed his mount toward Adam.

  Over and over again Adam yanked. “Let me go to her! Let me loose!”

  “Quiet down or you’ll be shot!” Th
e lieutenant seemed to be talking louder than necessary. He rode up to Adam and dismounted. “Shut your goddamned mouth! Your wife is fine.” He landed a booted foot into Adam’s side, making him cry out, but Adam yanked even harder, cursing him and begging him to let him go to Andrea. The lieutenant then took a second cuff from his saddlebag. When Adam kicked out wildly, the lieutenant landed a chain across his shoulder, stunning him just long enough to permit him to clamp the cuff around Adam’s free wrist and then attach its chain to the pin that held the first chain. Now both of Adam’s arms were stretched up, chained to the post. The lieutenant grasped his hair and jerked him close. “Play along with me, Chandler, and you’ll get your wish,” he said quietly.

  Adam stopped struggling, eyed the man warily. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I don’t dare show you one ounce of sympathy if we’re to pull this thing off.”

  Adam’s heart lifted, and his eyes became wild with excitement. “You will let me go?”

  “Your wife was badly abused,” the lieutenant said quickly. “I’m sorry to tell you so quickly, but I can’t sit here talking to you all day. Douglas Means raped her, then hung her outside for all the men to see while he whipped her. He was going to turn her over to the other men, but I got there first. I had them cut her down, and I brought her back with me. She’s with your mother now, and my medic will tend to her.” He shoved Adam hard then and stood up. Adam curled up, tears of rage engulfing him. Andrea!

  “You can go to her…tomorrow, perhaps. For tonight, you’d best keep cursing and making trouble so I can keep you chained. I’ll send a man to watch you; then I’ll come back after dark and tell him I’m taking over.”

  Adam breathed deeply for control before turning and looking directly at the lieutenant. “I…don’t understand.”

  The lieutenant stared at him, his own eyes angry. “I kept thinking about what you said—about how I’d feel if it were my wife. In all that’s happened not one of you Cherokees has fought back. As far as I’m concerned that’s the bravest and most admirable decision I’ve known anyone to make. But your nonviolence has gained you nothing, and I know by your own actions and the condition you were in when they brought you here that you deserve to be able to avenge your family’s abuse. I feel responsible myself. I should have gone to get her sooner.”