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Little Salai was thriving. She’d regained some of the weight she lost while she’d been ill, along with her naturally sunny disposition. The toddler was fascinated with this strange new world. She spent hours sorting through the bits of fabric in the workbasket, wrapping them around her fingers or putting them on her head then crawling over to model her creations for Asila to admire.
Late one night, the pain of teething woke the child, and she began whimpering. Asila got up and brewed a soothing drink for the baby then sat by the fire and rocked her back to sleep, softly crooning the Cherokee lullabies her grandmother sang to her as a babe.
* * *
Gabriel woke to the sight of woman and child cuddling in the rocking chair he’d made, illuminated by the soft glow of dying embers on the hearth.
He lay in bed, pretending to be asleep, listening to the unfamiliar words and the strange but compelling melody. It had been so long since he’d heard music in the cabin. Abigail used to sing occasionally as she went about her chores. Hymns, mostly, but now and then she’d break into a rollicking tune, coaxing him up to dance around with her.
Sometimes at night he’d sit by the fire and play his fiddle with her beside him in the rocking chair, sewing tiny gowns for their unborn baby and singing along. For months, his fiddle had lain untouched in the bottom of the trunk, along with Abigail’s things.
Eventually, he drifted off to sleep again, imagining the notes he’d play if he were going to accompany the unusual tune.
The smell of cornbread roused him. Gabriel opened his eyes to the sight of the familiar womanly form in the blue calico gown taking a pot off the fire.
No matter what time he woke, she was always up before him. He’d never seen a woman who worked so hard. This Indian wasn’t lazy, like the ones his preacher talked about. And she was always gentle and loving with the little girl, not at all the way he imagined a savage would act.
Raised in the outskirts of Raleigh, North Carolina, Gabriel had never seen an Indian before he came to the mountains. His family owned a small farm, and he and his older brother Caleb took it over when they were still in their teens, working in the fields and caring for Mama after Papa passed away.
When Caleb married his childhood sweetheart and brought her to live in the farmhouse with them, Gabriel decided it was time to move on. He’d heard of endless tracts of fertile land, forests rich with game, and clear streams of fresh water in the mountain valleys that lay to the west. He got down on one knee and proposed to his lovely Abigail, the young woman he’d been courting since they were both sixteen, asking her to share his life and join him on his quest. They were married in a small ceremony surrounded by family and friends in their local church before heading west to find a new home and start a family of their own.
Land was cheap in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and he secured a large parcel with a wide creek flowing through an open meadow. It had a stretch of level land with good soil to support the crops they’d need to raise a family. Gabriel knew how to farm and how to hunt. He was confident he could make a fine life for Abigail and a brood of youngsters.
Winters were mild in the southern foothills, and the miles of forests around them held plenty of wood. He built them a snug little cabin, and they settled into their new home. But it was a lonely life, far from family and friends.
Occasionally, during that first year, he hitched up the horse and buggy on a Sunday and they made the long drive to attend a church service in the nearest town. Their new neighbors were friendly mountain folk and welcomed them to the community. Still, Abigail missed her mother and sisters desperately, especially when she found out they were going to have a child.
Gabriel knew no matter how much she loved him, he was no substitute for the comfort and advice other women could provide to an expectant mother. They talked of making the long journey back to Raleigh so she could be near her family when the child was born. But then Abigail fell ill and said she felt too poorly to travel.
She still insisted on doing all her chores, although afterward she spent more and more time sitting by the fire in the rocking chair he’d lovingly crafted for her. She never complained. Before Gabriel realized how sick she truly was, Abigail was gone – along with his dreams for their future.
In the weeks and months that followed, Gabriel thought of simply walking away, abandoning their home with all its painful memories as well as the land he’d worked so hard to cultivate. But grief had sapped the energy he needed to take the huge step of starting over somewhere else. It was easier just to get up every morning, feed the animals in the barn and then spend all day tending the crops. The familiar routine required hard physical labor – and mercifully left him so exhausted he fell into bed each night with no time to sit alone in the empty room, haunted by his memories.
Asila’s quiet presence in the cabin had made him realize how truly lonely he’d been over the last year. And he admired the skill with which she made her home in the wilderness. It seemed there was nothing the woman couldn’t do. Yesterday she’d gone hunting when he fell asleep for a few hours. She came back carrying a young turkey and cooked it for their dinner, cleaning and plucking the bird then roasting it with a tasty array of wild plants and herbs he couldn’t even identify.
Despite his efforts to ignore her, little Salai was slowly working her way into his heart. On the previous night, he’d sat down to the dinner Asila cooked. She never took a place at the table, always serving him silently, standing behind him then eating alone after he finished.
Salai was perched on the chair across from him, tied securely in place with an old cloth wrapped around her waist and threaded through the back slats. Grabbing a fistful of cornbread off her plate, the toddler crammed it into her mouth. When she saw him watching, she dug in again. Then, with a smile, she held out her grubby little hand, offering him a taste.
Gabriel couldn’t resist the sweet gesture. He pretended to nibble a bit off her fingers then solemnly nodded and thanked her. Salai grinned and turned to Asila, stretching out her hand to feed the woman as well.
* * *
Keeping an eye out from her spot near the hearth, Asila had been moved by his kindness to the child. Till then, he’d done his best to ignore Salai’s presence in the cabin. He treated her coldly, barely acknowledging her when she crawled over and pulled herself up clinging to the leg of his pants.
Asila hovered nearby, ready to spring into action if he raised a hand to strike the child as he had done to her. But he never moved, enduring the little girl’s touch with a pained expression on his face and turning away when she got to her feet and toddled back across the room.
Now she saw warmth in his eyes as he pretended to take the food Salai offered. It was the first kind gesture he’d made toward the little girl. Asila marveled at the resilience of this child who had lost so much and still reached out to a stranger with love. She feared Salai would grow up never knowing her own mother or father, her brother and sister.
Asila’s eyes filled with tears as she thought of Noya and all the others from her village. They’d been torn from their homes and the life they loved. Some of the older members of the tribe had spoken out in warning, remembering all the treaties that had been broken in the past. But no one had been prepared for President Jackson’s flagrant disregard of the law and the swift invasion by armed soldiers.
Right now, Noya and the others were facing months of forced marching, taking only what they could carry with them as they walked on day after day. And at the end of their journey, they would live forevermore in a strange barren land, far from the ancient mountains that had fed and sheltered her people since time began.
In many ways, she and Salai were the lucky ones. If they could make their way to the village of Cherokee and find refuge there, her niece might have the chance to live a normal life among her own people here in the mountains.
* * *
Gabriel glanced up to see Asila gazing at the child, blinking back tears. He wondered what had happened to the Indian brave who had been Salai’s father. Did seeing the child bring back memories of loss for her, as it did for him? Were savages actually capable of such deep feelings? He wished he could communicate with her, ask her about her life.
