Nunnada'utsun't'yi - The Trail Place Where They Cried "Why, Papa?" Blue-eyed Sarah asked once more. "Honey, I already explained to you, President Jackson wants to move west. It is our manifest destiny. A-" "What's manifest destiny again?" she interrupted, her curly chestnut locks bobbing with awaiting. "It is our inevitable mission. Everyone knew that sooner or later this country would extend westward all the way to the other ocean that Lewis and Clark found. It-" "But why do the Native Americans have to get out of our way? They were here before us, were they not? They should have the right to their land and us to whatever is left over. They were our allies the whole way through up until right now, while Britain and France have been extremely fickle. Just because this notion is our obvious future doesn't mean we should shove people out of the way." Sarah stopped for a moment, and her father, John Edwards, jumped right back in. "Now, you know that isn't entirely true; there are some Indians out there who are very vicious and don't care whether we are here to help or hurt them." He shook his head. "Sometimes I think you're quite naive, Sarah. Y-" "Papa, I know more than you think," she said. "Now, when are we leaving for the move?" "Sarah, I shall have to punish you for insolence if you interrupt me one more time," John strictly stated. "I'm sorry, Papa. I just wish I could... oh I don't know..." she murmured. "I'll go pack. Let me know when the wagon pulls out." *** "What does this mean, Mother?" Mary Wallsmith inquired. "Why is this happening to us? We have not done anything wrong. Cherokee Natives have been here longer than those white European-Americans. Why must we move from our homes?" Deep brown eyes flashed above beautiful prominent cheekbones. Jane, Mary's mother, looked at her somberly. "My dear, the United States think they own our land, though no one can ever lay claim to Mother Earth. They are much more powerful than our community, so they can easily do as they want. Mary, the four seasons have passed only fourteen times in your life. It is 1838. You may not understand quite yet the politics and complexities of this world." She then stood up and left through the flap in the tent, her black hair trailing behind her in the warm wind. Mary sat and stared at the dirt floor. "I must know so I can be able to change this," she whispered, and quietly exited the shelter, her hair, same as her mother's, and spirit, limp. *** Sarah sat on her bed, looking at a small portrait of her mother. It was very hard for her, having to follow her father on this long journey, which she did not agree with at all, just because they had no living relatives. Her father knocked, and Sarah stashed her picture under her pillow, and stifled her opinions, for the moment. "Sarah, why don't you go outside and take a walk?" he suggested. "You've been cooped up in this fort since we arrived." "I've been writing and drawing, Papa. I'm fine. What if the Cherokee people don't like me?" In her mind, the dam broke. "Your soldiers have been treating these magnificent people very poorly. They did nothing wrong to deserve this. The president, no matter how wise he may be, is letting his excitement and eagerness to move west get in the way of his better judgement and blind him. I mean, is there nothing we can do to stop it?" Tears streamed in thin rivulets down her rosy cheeks, heated with conviction. John's stern demeanor crumbled as he watched his daughter hide her fervent cries. "Sarah, my daughter, I fear there is nothing we can do except what the president wishes. If I try to save the Indians by hiding them or leading them to other lands, I could go to jail. If I was in love with one, I could marry her and move to North Carolina, but there is no one for me out there." "What if there was?" Sarah persisted. "If I go and look, will you come with me and get a breath of fresh air?" he persuaded. She sighed. "Yes, Papa, I'll go with you," she seceded. Together they went for a brisk walk with the natives. *** Mary shivered. Her bare feet were blue and numb. She had been through a muddy, rainy fall without many supplies, and now that it was winter, her mother and she had nothing to keep them warm. The cruel soldiers kept them moving night and day, no matter the condition. However, Jane seemed to have made acquaintances with one of the troops. She spoke of John Edwards to Mary quite often, and she seemed very fond of him. So Mary took it upon herself to make sure he was not deceiving her mother. That afternoon she tried to make herself as presentable as possible and went to see this man named John Edwards. Mary stepped over the icy patches of grass and knocked on the fort door. A burly man growled, "What do you want, Injun?" She winced. "May I see... umm... John Edwards, please, sir?" Mary requested as meekly as she could. He waved her in. "Wait here, girl. I'll see if he wants to talk to you," he grumbled as he scrutinized her. Turning around, he rapped on a door and called out, "John Edwards. Visitor. Native." The brawny man looked Mary up and down once more, then entered another room and slammed the door shut. A nice looking man, with brown hair and blue eyes, stepped out of the first room. "Yes? I am John Edwards. May I help you?" he asked kindly. Already Mary was a tad indulgent of this gentleman. "I am Mary Wallsmith, daughter of Jane Wallsmith. You and she have developed a friendship that she is very... well, she holds you and your relationship in high admiration." Mary noticed that at this sentiment, his face began to redden. She continued anyway. "I do not want my mother hurt, by you or any of your soldier comrades. We have been tortured enough by the blistering winds and drenching downpours. Neither of us have shoes, supplies, or warmth. She will not be able to handle this if her heart becomes broken, as well, and I will lose her like I lost my aunt, my cousin, my grandmother, and my best friend. This journey is nunnada'utsun'yi, and where I, too, cry." With that, she began to walk away. "Wait, Mary." John ran to catch up with her after a moment's hesitation. "I do not want any harm to come to your mother, or you, or anyone on this trip. I would never wish this sort of torment on my worst, most hateful enemy, let alone a great people and tribe such as yours. It is the cruelest work I ever knew. I myself am a sturdy man, but to see the remnant of a once mighty people fettered and chained together and forced to depart from the land of their fathers, is of itself enough to move the stoutest heart." He rubbed his neck, his toe running lines in the ground. "I admit, I like your mother, a lot. I even told - " John smacked himself in the forehead. "How could I forget. Sarah!" *** When she heard her name shouted, Sarah ran out as fast as she could. Panting, she raced to her father. "What ever is the matter, Papa? Is everything alright? And who is this?" She studied the Indian girl for a moment as her father went on to explain. "Yes, yes, dear, everything is quite fine indeed. This is Mary Wallsmith, the daughter of Jane. The one I have been telling you about? I was explaining to her that I am a very big advocate of Cherokee rights, when I realized I had forgotten to introduce you two." Sarah stuck out her hand, and Mary took it with a smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." "Pleased to meet you, too," Mary replied. "I like your pigtails. And the ribbons. My favorite color is purple. It is the hardest dye to find and make, you know." "I learned all about that from the books Papa lets me read. Purple is my favorite, too!" Already the girls had taken an instant liking to each other. *** "Let's count the number of hares we see today," Mary suggested. "I used to do that with my cousins, before... well, you know." "I am very sorry about the tragic losses you have had to endure. I lost my mother, as I've already told you. I know what it's like. Of course, yours came one right after the other, without time to have the grieving process. It is a little different, I guess," Sarah giggled ruefully. "Anyway, yes, let us do that. It sounds like fun. And maybe we can count the number of birds that fly by, and what types they are. In fact, let's write it down! You know how I enjoy writing." Mary was overjoyed to have a new companion, and even at the present, they were the best of friends. No matter what happened, Mary would always remember the time they spent together. *** "Sarah, I must tell you something," John exclaimed. Before she could get settled to hear the news, he blurted it out. "I am to be married!" "Oh, Papa, that is wonderful. But until I know who it is, I cannot get too excited." "You difficult little half-pint," her father jested, "You know it's Jane." "Yes!" Sarah cheered. "Mary is going to be my sister! Wait, Papa. That means we can move back to North Carolina with them? That means they are saved from the eternal damnation of the hell which many call Indian Territory? I must go tell her now!" *** And with that, one family was saved from the wiles of the west. Jane and Mary adapted quite nicely to the ways of the Americans, but still bringing with them a mighty past. Mary and Sarah became advocates for civil rights, and abolitionists, as well. John and his family lived together in happiness and prosperity for a very long time.
Copyright © 2005 Desi Williams |