Here she also felt more connected to the people, the animals, even the land around her. In just this short time, she was beginning to get a true understanding of what leaving behind the land that people had worked for their entire lives, and the entire lives of their ancestors, would mean to them.
The morning passed quickly. They hauled the mid-day meal out to the fields and served it in the usual spot under the oak tree. While they ate, Benjamin explained to Alice that the field he wanted to clear was a spot that had been neglected, and ridding it of the overgrowth would be laborious. He planned to make good use of the field for the late summer vegetables he wanted to plant. He told her that he expected the clearing to take several days, although because the days were getting longer as summer approached, with the extra daylight they may be able to complete the job in less time.
The field was about six acres and had been lying fallow for about three years. There were not any large trees to remove, although the brush had thrived. The majority of it could simply be cut and hauled to a burn pile. The larger roots had to be dug or chopped out of the ground with a mattock to prepare the field for plowing. While the men chopped at the roots, the women carried and dragged the cut brush to a huge pile, where it would be allowed to season and set on fire.
They worked hard and managed to complete the job in a single afternoon. Now Benjamin would have his extra field, ready to be plowed and planted. The workers stood looking at the field, taking a few moments to admire the results of their hard work. A passerby might wonder at seeing seven people silently gazing at an empty field, but to the exhausted workers it was a glorious site. The workers themselves, haggard and fatigued, were far from glorious. Every bit of exposed skin was covered with a mixture of dust and sweat; faces streaked and smeared where it had been wiped away from their eyes, nose, and mouth. Their clothing, also covered in dirt, suffered from every sort of abuse—tears, rips, snags, and frays.
They dragged themselves back to the farmhouse after a quick stop at the barn to put away their tools. Elated with the progress on the field, Benjamin suggested that tomorrow they might suspend their chores for an hour or two and take another fishing trip. His suggestion energized them all, animating their previously quiet and sluggish procession into a lively discussion of fishing holes and techniques.
They used several buckets of water from the rain barrel to remove as much of the dirt from their hands, arms, and faces as they could. The strenuous work had given them all a healthy appetite, so a thorough washing was going to have to wait until after they ate. There had been no time for extravagant food preparations, which meant that their evening meal would be pottage, a meal that all farming families ate every now and then, even the more prosperous ones. Pottage was made from the choice leftovers of the last several meals, which were put into a massive iron pot, seasoned well and kept simmering over the fire, resulting in a hodgepodge stew that was always ready. In the case of the Rogers family, it was also always very tasty.
The discussion of tomorrow’s fishing outing continued while they served up bowls of the savory stew and great slabs of leftover cornbread. With everyone talking, Benjamin didn’t notice the dogs barking until they became loud and persistent enough to catch his attention.
“Billy,” Benjamin said, “go and see what those dogs are on about, please. It is probably just another ‘coon that has wandered up to the house, but we should make sure it is not a fox up to some mischief.”
Billy reluctantly put down his spoon and headed toward the front door. No sooner than he left the table, Benjamin heard the sound of hoof beats thundering up the lane to the farmhouse.
“Sounds like we have company,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but unable to keep an edge of alarm from his voice. He flew to the front door with all the speed of the hummingbird, his boyhood namesake.
“Get out! What do you want!” they heard Billy’s cries coming from the front of the house, followed by Benjamin’s authoritative voice, “How dare you enter my home!” then lower, “Get behind me Billy!”
Startled, the others sprang from the table and rushed toward Benjamin, who held up a firm hand indicating for them to remain behind him. He was facing three uniformed men who had entered the farmhouse. Benjamin stood waiting for a response to his question, his small but sturdy body like a rampart between the men and his family. The three men wore gun belts, their pistols holstered, although two of the men kept their hand on the stock of their gun. Through the door they could see a half dozen other men, still mounted, who were armed with both rifles and pistols. The men outside were not wearing uniforms, and Benjamin thought he recognized a couple of them as townsfolk from New Echota. They were not the same men they had encountered with Jebediah Barnett, nor was Jebediah among them.
“Are you Benjamin Rogers?” asked one of the soldiers who had entered the house.
“I am, and you are trespassing on my property,” Benjamin said sternly.
“I’m afraid it is not your property any longer,” the soldier said. “You and your family must come with us.”
“Come with you where? Why should we?”
“You are being ordered to come to the fort at New Echota. My name is Captain James Martin, of the Georgia Guard. We have no wish to cause you any harm, but my orders are to bring you and your family to Fort Wool for relocation. Peaceably, I hope, for the sake of your safety and that of your family.”
“We were told we had until May 23rd. Today is only the 18th,” said Benjamin.
“The Georgia Guard has been ordered to begin the roundup of all Indian people today. The federal troops are making the final preparations of the relocation forts, and will begin assisting with the roundup soon.
“We have much to do today,” the captain continued. “I would like to be patient, but I have not been allotted time for discussion. Will you and your family cooperate, or must I order my men to move you by force?”
The look in Captain Martin’s pale blue eyes and the stern tone of his voice implied that he preferred not to use force against this family, but he would be willing to do so if pressed. The men standing outside the door were already fidgeting, and Benjamin did not doubt that they would be willing to do the captain’s bidding; some of them would possibly even enjoy using violence against defenseless civilians.
He turned and looked at his family. Billy stood boldly, but fear showed through his defiance. Sally was crying, holding tightly to her mother’s skirt. Alice looked disbelieving and full of anger, ready to verbally engage the captain, though wisely remaining silent. He glanced at Catherine and noted that this was one of the few times he had seen her without a smile, struggling to keep her fear and anger hidden. She exchanged a look with Benjamin, slowly nodding her head, lowering her eyes to the floor.
“We will cooperate,” Benjamin said. The words left a foul taste in his mouth.
“That would be for the best. I will give you ten minutes to gather personal items. You have a wagon, and you may load your things into it. Everyone, including your slaves, will be escorted to the fort.”
“Ten minutes!” Benjamin cried. “How are we to get all our belongings into a single wagon in ten minutes?”
“Consider yourself fortunate that I am allowing you that,” said the captain. “Do not waste the time you have.” He turned and walked out the door, followed by his two companions.
The family stood looking at Benjamin in shock, feeling as if their world was coming to an end. The feeling was not far from the truth. It would take every bit of his willpower, but Benjamin knew he had to set aside his anger and humiliation, at least for the next ten minutes. He suppressed his initial inclination to oppose the men, to show them he was no coward and greet their aggression with fierce resistance. It would only be foolishness. He knew he was no coward, and so did his family. He did not need to prove anything to these men. His immediate priority was to get his family safely to the fort. He knew they were as angry as he was, and it was clear they had no choice but to capitulate to the
wishes of the Georgia Guard. He gathered his thoughts and began directing the preparations, firmly and without emotion.
“Catherine,” he began, “gather what you can of our clothing and blankets, those things may be the most important. Also whatever household items you think are essential. You must leave behind sentimental items, we have limited room with a single wagon, and it cannot be overloaded if we are truly expected to make a long journey. Keep Sally with you.
“Billy, you will come with me to prepare the wagon and help gather a few of our most important tools. We will inform Isaac and Silvey of the situation and I will send Silvey back to help Catherine.
“Alice,” he lowered his voice to not be overheard by the men outside, “they may assume you are part of the family, which at the moment may be for the best. I do not believe that trying to explain anything else to them is advisable at this time.”
With her blonde hair and blue eyes, Alice hardly looked like a Cherokee, although many of the mixed-blood Indians had European features. She was still wearing the tattered and dirty clothing from working in the field, giving her the appearance of a farm laborer. Most likely, the Captain just didn’t want to take the time away from his roundup schedule to deal with individuals.
“Yes, you’re probably right,” Alice answered. “I’ll help Catherine pack, and go along with you all to New Echota.”
“Very good,” Benjamin said. “I will bring the wagon as soon as it is ready.”
Captain Martin sent a couple of his men along with Benjamin to the barn. They did not offer any help, but neither did they interfere. Benjamin could not imagine the purpose of sending the men to the barn. Did this captain think that he would run off and leave his family behind? He put the thought from his mind, and set about his tasks.
They brought the partially loaded wagon to the house, where the women had begun stacking a pile of items to be loaded. Benjamin was not sure how much of his ten minutes he had used. The captain watched, expressionless, as they loaded the wagon. He was clearly impatient but was so far uncomplaining of the progress.
Several of the men nudged each other and pointed to the tree line across Benjamin’s fields. The captain could see that another group was gathering there—scavengers, ready to swoop in like buzzards to help themselves to whatever Benjamin left behind. This assignment was not one that Captain Martin enjoyed. He had many Cherokee friends at home back in Tennessee, but he was a soldier and had no choice, it was his duty and he would do it as best he could. He called his men to order and turned his attention back to the Rogers.
“That will do,” he said to Benjamin. “We’re moving out.”
They had not finished loading the wagon, and Catherine started to protest, but Benjamin held up a hand and shook his head. He was sure their ten minutes had long passed.
“We are as ready as we can be,” he said to the captain.
In addition to the two horses pulling the wagon, Benjamin had brought up two additional horses. He and Billy rode on one, while Isaac mounted the second. The women squeezed into the wagon, with Catherine at the reins. They headed down the lane, the captain placing several of the men in front and several behind the wagon. When they reached the end of the lane, Benjamin paused.
“Captain?” he said, nodding his head toward his family.
Captain Martin looked at Benjamin and the grief-stricken faces of the rest of the family. He was a soldier, but not completely without sympathy. He signaled his men to halt, and said to Benjamin, “I can only give you a moment.”
“That will be long enough,” said Benjamin.
The Rogers family turned for a final farewell to the farm that had been their home for so many years. So much more than a few acres of land and a handful of buildings, the place was part of the family, full of memories of good times and bad, echoes of laughter and tears; as much a part of the family as any one of them.
“Good heavens, what will happen to the rest of the livestock?” Alice asked.
“I do not think we will have to worry about that,” said Benjamin, indicating with his eyes the group of scavengers already moving toward the house.
“Let’s move out,” said the captain, and they turned their backs on the farm and rode away in grim silence.
Chapter thirty-four
Guwaya, I know that you have considered the difficulties you are sure to face if you take that course of action,” said John Carter.
Tom looked around the table at the resolute faces of the Ward family. Even little Sagi, plainly too young to understand the conversation, appeared to have a look of determination.
“As I have said, we discussed it and have decided that our only choice is to go into hiding. I know of places here in the mountains that the whites have never seen, even after all these many years of their settlements here. There is rough terrain that offers good hiding places because they are too rough to be used for farming.”
John looked doubtful. “I hope you are making a wise decision. You will be hunted, and have to live off the land, with your mother and two small children.”
“It is them I am thinking of. It is the only way to preserve their dignity. As you yourself have said, it would be honorable to fight, but suicidal. In my mind, going to ground is more honorable than giving up.”
John nodded solemnly. He knew that once the Ward family had made their decision, it would be irrevocable. He would not be able to change their minds, and it was not his place to do so. Cherokee etiquette demanded noninterference and respect for the self-determination of others. Even if he believed someone was making a bad decision, it was not appropriate to belabor his concerns; he must accept their decision unless his opinion was sought. In his heart, John was not so sure it was a bad decision. Certainly extremely risky and dangerous, but was it really any more perilous than giving up the ancient homelands and being forced to move to unknown territory? He was torn between principle and self-preservation, as were many of his people.
Tom, however, was another matter, and John needed to make sure he understood the situation in which he was being placed. He excused himself to the Wards, and asked Tom to accompany him outside where they could speak privately.
“Tom, if Guwaya intends to take flight to avoid removal, the situation for everyone involved becomes much more complex. Living off the land with a family up in these mountains would be difficult enough, and with the additional pressure of pursuit from the militia, I do not much like his chances of success. Not to mention that you will be complicit in their illegal activities.”
“Aren’t they pretty much living off the land now?” Tom asked.
“They unquestionably possess the skills to live independently, but no, they currently are not living off the land entirely. Guwaya depends on supplies he gets from town, and they barter goods that they make and grow. If they are going to hide in a remote place, they will no longer have the resources of this farm or access to trade.”
“Surely they would not expect to live in hiding permanently. I supposed they expect that if they hide out for a while, things will change and they’ll be allowed back on their land. As I’ve told you, in my future that’s not what happens, and I don’t see it as very likely in any event.”
“I agree. Once others get their hands on the land, it is certain that they will not give it up willingly. I believe that the best they can hope for is to hold out for a few weeks and try to join up with any others that may have taken the same course of action. A larger group will have a better chance at survival for a longer time. Then there may be an opportunity to find sanctuary as they continue to try to regain their lands. But as for you, it may be best if you return with me. This was not the situation I intended to put you in.”
“You just said that with more people, their chances might be better. I haven’t much experience at living entirely off the land and hiding out from a militia, but I can definitely lend them my support in other ways.”
“I am sure you could, but if you choose to stay with them, you must understa
nd that you could be putting your life at risk—much more than you have already.”
“Guwaya is the only adult male in this family. I think that staying here to help him do what he believes is best for his family is worth the risk to my safety. In fact, I don’t think my conscience will let me leave, knowing what they face and that I may be of some small service to them. My trivial contributions could mean the difference between life and death for them.”
Tom gave no indication he was making a glib decision—he understood all that was at stake. John wondered if he had misjudged these people from the future, giving them less credit than they deserved. It was clear that they were inexperienced in the difficulties of everyday life, used to a much softer time, and were unaccustomed to the harshness of living in this world, but they also had demonstrated a doggedness to stand against injustice, both against themselves and others. If they truly represented the future, perhaps there was hope for the people after all.
“Your presence would certainly be useful to the Wards. I do not believe that your contributions would be trivial, and if we left them on their own my conscience would suffer as well. This is a fine family, and I would like to give them every opportunity to survive through whatever may happen. If you are certain that you understand the hazards you are likely to face, I will discuss some tentative plans with you and Guwaya. Obviously once you go into hiding you will be cut off from communication with me until I return.”
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