CHAPTER 9 
CHAPTER 9 On the west side of the Tennessee River, Nellie’s heart sank like a stone in the water. She didn’t know if she was now off ancient Cherokee earth, but it felt like it. It felt like she had crossed into the unknown.
She rode Midnight beside the wagon. “Etsi, do you need something, anything?” “Do not worry, Nellie. I am fine.”
Her etsi was not yet large with child, but Nellie could tell through Etsi’s dress that the baby was growing. In less than four months, she would have a new brother or sister. In less than four months, they would be in the new land.
She’d heard the men talk about the trip. It should take less than three months if everything went well. If they made the miles every day that they made yesterday, they could easily do that. A journey of eight hundred miles could be broken down to walking ten miles a day, and they had made more than that yesterday. It was three miles from home to the mission school, and it took her about an hour when she walked, much less time on Midnight.
By doing simple arithmetic, she worked it out to less than four hours a day of movement should put them ten miles farther down the trail toward the new Cherokee land. Of course, the old ones could not move as fast as she, and there seemed to be a large number of old ones walking, carrying heavy burdens. But they had traveled much longer than four hours yesterday. And she was sure they would do the same most days.
They had been delayed enormously today with the ferry crossing. Waiting hours to move forward took its toll on the mind. But that was over. They were moving forward now, trying to catch the wagons that had crossed the river before them.
Yes, even with delays like this one, and even if they didn’t travel on Sunday as Reverend Bushyhead told them last night, they would still be in the new Cherokee country before the baby was born.
Nellie rode past the Starr wagon just to see what was ahead. The land varied when the road passed through forests and when it passed through cleared land. She saw few houses along the road and, so far, no real towns. There were hills, though, and the oxen and horses slowed down as they pulled the heavily laden wagons.
She passed more walkers than she did wagons. Not for the first time in her life did she realize how fortunate she was to have a pony. Edoda had commented many times about the differences in the poor and the wealthy, and how there were not many Cherokee in between the two extremes. It was the same with the white men, he said, and although the Starrs had the new house and the store, he said their family was not really in the wealthy class. They were part of the few families in the upper middle. He said he sometimes felt bad that the store was doing well. It made him feel more white than Cherokee.
He believed the Cherokee thought more of living and the white men thought more of getting. Yet the Starr family lived very well and had gotten very much. They worked hard, but they enjoyed play, too. Many times, Edoda had said that real wealth was in things that feed the spirit. Beautiful things. Things that brought joy like a field of daisies dancing in the wind or the music of a stream gurgling over stones.
Ahead, Nellie spotted Morning Sun. Her friend, family members, and their slaves were walking alongside the wagon to lighten the load as the oxen strained to make the hill. Nellie got off Midnight and walked beside her friend.
“This journey is taking a long time. Are we there yet?” Morning Sun asked with a laugh.
Nellie laughed, too. It was an odd sound to her ears. She had not laughed much lately, and it felt good.
She could see how Morning Sun got her name. She was joyful like the morning sun. Oh, sometimes she could be like the sun on cloudy days, but more often she was bright and happy and smiling.
“I think we have a few more days on the trail,” Nellie said. “We should make it in less than three months.”
“That is a long time,” Morning Sun said.
“Yes, but there is nothing we can do about it except go forward,” Nellie said, echoing something Old Rivers had said.
“One foot in front of the other and switch and switch and switch,” Morning Sun said in a singsong voice. Morning Sun linked arms with Nellie, and they walked, skipped, and danced forward. They didn’t dance in a spiral like the stars overhead, in the traditional Cherokee way of dancing, but they danced forward.
“You girls are silly,” Morning Sun’s brother said as he plodded up the steep hill.
Although breathless from climbing the road, Morning Sun said, “We are going forward. Like it or not, that’s what we’re doing. So we might as well enjoy doing it.”
Her attitude matched the attitude of Old Rivers, and Nellie liked that. Too many times lately, she had asked what crime the Cherokee had committed to be thrown off their land. There was no answer to that question, but there was no use fighting what had happened.
“One foot in front of the other,” Nellie sang with Morning Sun. Her heart was lightened, and it had been so heavy after John’s family left. Nellie walked with Morning Sun until they crested the long hill and Morning Sun could ride on the wagon.
On the ride back to the Starr wagon, Nellie looked around for joyful things to feed her spirit. She heard an owl in the woods calling whoo.
“Why are you not asleep?” Nellie called to the owl. He answered with another whoo.
Blue flowers bloomed on the bank of a ditch. She wanted to pick one for her etsi, but with no vase to put it in, no table to set it on to brighten a room, she did not. She wouldn’t harm a flower for a moment’s joy, just to watch it wilt and die.
She rode beside the wagon until they reached the long hill. Then she insisted that Etsi ride Midnight. Nellie walked alongside Sarah, while Edoda drove the team. Their wagon was so full that it was a laborious pull for the oxen.
Once they crested the top and Etsi and Sarah climbed on board for the ride downhill, Edoda said, “We may have to double team with Old Rivers to make the next hill.”
And that’s exactly what they had to do. With both teams of oxen hitched to the Starr wagon, it was still a hard pull. Then Edoda unhitched the oxen and drove the two teams downhill to hitch them to Old Rivers’s wagon.
Nellie, Sarah, and Etsi sat on the ground in the shade of the wagon.
“At this rate, it will take us forever to get to the new land,” Nellie said.
“I have heard that Missouri does not have the glorious mountains of Tennessee,” Etsi said. “It is flatter, and it will be easier travel.”
“Glorious mountains,” Sarah said slowly, as if the phrase rolled deliciously off her tongue.
Etsi smiled for a brief moment. “They are glorious mountains, and I will miss them,” she said, and then she cried.
Sarah cried with her, and Nellie couldn’t hold back her tears. What a day of conflicting emotions. One moment she was dancing on the road with Morning Sun, and the next she was crying at the side of the road beside a stalled wagon. She’d felt defiance toward the white men when John’s family rode away, and now she felt bitterness toward them because they were taking the glorious mountains from her people. She knew both feelings were wrong. She should turn the other cheek, as she had learned from the Bible. She should forgive those who trespassed against her, but her heart and mind warred in turmoil, and she was incapable of forgiveness.
They were still wiping tears when another double-teamed wagon grunted to the top of the hill. Those folks unhitched, and a man drove the teams downhill to get another wagon. At least a dozen women and children traveled with the other wagon, and Nellie struck up a conversation with them. When Sarah repeated the phrase “glorious mountains,” the entire bunch wept.
Edoda, Old Rivers, Smoke Cloud, and Lewis made it to the top of the hill.
“What’s this?” Edoda asked.
“We’ve lost our glorious mountains,” Nellie said.
“But we have not lost each other,” Edoda said. “We have much to be thankful for, so let’s not dwell on what we have lost.”
He helped Etsi and Sarah onto the wagon, and the wagon rumbled downhill. Nellie followed on Midnight.
Of course Edoda was right. Of course. On the long road the rest of that day, Nellie repeated in her mind that they had a lot to be thankful for. She asked God to help her see the happy side of life.
That evening, the sunset was spectacular as clouds had moved in, and half the sky glowed with pinks and purples. But the clouds moved on without dropping one speck of rain. And after the sun’s colorful display disappeared, the evening seemed gray, and Nellie again felt dispirited.
After the evening prayer service led by Reverend Bushyhead, Edoda stayed at the gathering spot to talk with him. The rest of the family walked back to their wagon. It was too hot to go right to sleep, so Nellie sat leaning against a wagon wheel. Old Rivers sat down beside her. “Did you find any eagle feathers today?” he asked.
“No.”
“Did you look hard?”
“We looked very hard. We rode up and down the river, but there was not one sign of eagles.”
“I found a feather.” He had been holding his left hand to his side, and he held it out to her—a golden eagle feather. “You may give this to your friend.”
“Thank you.” She took the feather. “But I can’t give it to him.” She didn’t want to say more. She had promised. But weren’t John and his family now beyond the long reach of the Light Horse? She couldn’t imagine some of the Cherokee policemen leaving their responsibilities to the wagon train to trail after the Deerborn family. Edoda came back to the wagon and squatted in front of Nellie. “Do you know anything about the Deerborn family?” he asked. “Reverend Bushyhead says the evening report shows their wagon is missing. Should we send out a search party to help them?” “I do not believe they need help,” Nellie said. “What do you know, Nellie?” Edoda asked softly. “I have given my promise not to say anything. Wouldn’t it be wrong to break that promise?”
“There have been deserters on other wagon trains,” Edoda said. “And there will be more on the trains behind us. Some people do not think they can live away from our homelands. But they are wrong. We must,” he said. “We must.”
Old Rivers spoke up. “Many people fear the unknown, but we must face our fears and go forward. All of us. The Deerborn family faces the unknown going away from the trail, as we do who go along the trail.”
“I do not believe we should send out a search party,” Nellie said. Saying that didn’t violate her promise, did it?
She handed the feather back to Old Rivers.
“Keep it,” he said. “It will remind you of your friend. He is gone, but you have memories that will always be with you.”
“Thank you,” Nellie said. She would keep the feather with her writing materials, and each time she saw it, she would say a little prayer that John and his family were finding their way, although it was down a different path than the one she was traveling.
“I must tell Jesse Bushyhead,” Edoda said. “Good night, Nellie.”
“I cannot tell—”
“You did not tell me anything I didn’t already know,” he said. “You kept your promise. But sometimes it is best not to make a promise.”
After Edoda left to find their leader, Nellie made her pallet on the ground so she could again watch the stars. How much had happened since she looked up at these same stars last night. John was somewhere back in the old land, never to be seen again. But John could be looking up at the same stars as she. So they were not that far apart, were they?
When she looked at the stars tomorrow night, where would they be, and what would have changed by then? If only she could see the future, she could be sure that things would be fine in the new land. Old Rivers said they must face their fears, and she guessed she would have to do that.
A voice in her head, her own voice, told her that she was not alone facing the future. God was with her wherever she went. She took peace from the thought and went to sleep.
The next morning, the routine was the same as the day before. Women fixed breakfast. Men hitched the livestock to the wagons. Children carried water buckets to wagons. The slit ditches were covered, and they were off for another day of riding and walking in the ceaseless sun.
The third day of the journey turned into the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. The only thing that distinguished one day from the next was the availability of supplies. On the sixth day, the food supply merchant had only moldy crackers to disperse. Quickly, the routine was set to cook at communal fires. The order came to use firewood cautiously as more wagon trains were coming behind them.
Already there was less game to be found along the trail. Those who had passed this way before them had sent rabbits and squirrels and deer scampering to safer areas. Lewis and Smoke Cloud rode farther and farther from the train in search of game for supper. Their skill with blowguns saved them from eating the same fare as the rest of the wagon train. Salt pork and corn bread every meal. Of course, now there were moldy crackers, too.
On the seventh day—Sunday—they rested. Reverend Bushyhead said they would not travel on the Sabbath. Exhausted, the old and young alike lay around the large camp, rubbing sore muscles and taking catnaps, trying to restore lagging energy.
Nellie and her family attended the Sunday morning service and sang hymns in the Cherokee language, just as they had with the evening services.
“A week we’ve been on the trail,” Edoda said while the family ate supper that evening. Salt pork and corn bread, again.
“There are many sick ones,” Old Rivers said. “We will make room in the wagon to carry the sick.”
They piled some of Old Rivers’s belongings in the crowded Starr wagon and made room for an old woman, She-Who-Sings, and a young boy, not three years old, and his mother to ride in the back.
The next morning, they began the journey again.