The Mandie Collection (43 page)

Riley O'Neal patiently waited for Mandie to turn toward the house.

“I have to warn you,” Mandie began as they started to the door. “I'm not sure what my Cherokee kinspeople will think of you.”

The missionary smiled. “We're all children of God, aren't we now?”

Mandie smiled up at him. “Of course we are.” Looking ahead, she saw Uncle Wirt and Aunt Saphronia standing in the doorway waiting for them. “Come on. I'll introduce you,” she said.

As she neared the doorway, she saw the curious, worried expressions on their faces.
Oh, things are going to be complicated
, she thought.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHEROKEE KINSPEOPLE

As Mandie and Riley O'Neal approached Uncle Wirt and Aunt Saphronia in the doorway, neither of the old people said a word.They just glanced from Mandie to the missionary and back again.

“Uncle Wirt, Aunt Saphronia, this is Mr. O'Neal,” Mandie began. “He gave me a ride to your house.”

The missionary extended his hand, but Uncle Wirt did not take it. He just stared at the young man.

“He's a missionary, Mr. Wirt,” Mandie explained. “He tells stories from the Big Book like the minister in your church does. Brother O'Neal is one of God's preachers.”

Uncle Wirt and Aunt Saphronia exchanged glances, then looked the missionary over.

“Where from?” Uncle Wirt asked.

“Way up north in Boston,” Riley O'Neal answered. “A long, long way from here.”

“Why you come see Cherokees?” the old Indian asked.

Mandie quickly spoke for the missionary. “He wants to build a school for the Cherokee people, Uncle Wirt,” she explained.

“School? Cherokees go to school,” Uncle Wirt argued.

“We understand there are a lot of Cherokees who don't attend school because it's too far away,” Riley O'Neal said. “We want to help them learn to read and write and do arithmetic—and also learn God's Word.”

“Cherokees not have books to read,” the old Indian replied. “Not need learn write. No pen. No paper. No money to count.”

“But we plan to make things better for your people,” the missionary argued. “We will give you books and pens and paper and also Bibles.” He smiled broadly. “And with an education and religion the Cherokees will become richer, better people.”

Mandie held her breath. Uncle Wirt would take that as an insult. She knew he considered the Cherokees the best people in the world.

Uncle Wirt stood silent for a moment. Then he stepped aside and motioned to the missionary. “Come. My house welcome preacher. We talk.”

“Thank you, sir,” the missionary replied, as he stepped inside the big log cabin. “I'm honored.” He took off his black hat and held it in his hand.

Snowball jumped down, and Mandie turned to embrace her great-aunt, a tiny woman with a million wrinkles. Snowball raced over to the pan of scraps on the hearth that the elderly couple put out for their own cats. The white kitten ate hungrily.

Aunt Saphronia silently smiled at Mandie and took her by the hand to the long table where the two men already sat across from each other. The pleasant aroma from good Cherokee cooking lingered in the air. Mandie and her great-aunt seated themselves at the other end of the table and listened.

“Your school good for all Cherokees?” Uncle Wirt asked.

“I promise you, sir, we will have the best-qualified teachers and the most modern books,” he told the Indian proudly, “and we'll prepare the Cherokees to make a better living. They will learn the ways of the white man and find out how to do business with him.”

“White man not want to do business with Cherokee,” the old Indian protested. “White man not always right.”

“You're correct, sir,” the missionary continued. “The white man is not always right. For instance, the white man took the Indians' land and moved them out. That was not morally right. That's why the Cherokees must learn the white man's ways, so they can protect themselves against any future happenings like this.”

“Cherokees learn too late. Nothing left,” Uncle Wirt said sadly. “Nothing left for white man to take.”

Riley O'Neal smiled sympathetically. “If the Cherokees learn things the white man knows, then the Cherokees will be able to get work and make money and live better,” he said. “And if they learn to read, they can read God's Word for themselves. With the Lord's help anything is possible.”

Mandie smiled at the missionary's optimistic spirit.

“Where make school?” Uncle Wirt asked, pushing back his long silver-streaked black hair.

Mandie leaned forward, listening eagerly. She knew a good place.

“Wherever the most convenient place would be for the Cherokees,” Riley O'Neal replied. “Since I'm not yet familiar with your area, maybe you could choose the place.”

Mandie leaned forward. “What about building it near the hospital, Uncle Wirt?” she asked excitedly. “That area has already been cleared to make a road to it.”

“Maybe,” Uncle Wirt said thoughtfully. “We have powwow. Cherokee talk. Maybe school. Maybe not school.” He rose.

“Thank you, sir,” the missionary said, also standing. Once again he extended his hand, and this time Uncle Wirt shook it heartily.

Aunt Saphronia came over to stand beside her husband. “Eat,” she offered.

Uncle Wirt turned to the missionary and nodded. “Put horse in barn. Eat,” he said. “Come.”

“Why, thank you,” the missionary replied in surprise.

As the men left the cabin, Mandie followed her great-aunt to the cupboard. The old woman started taking down dishes.

Mandie glanced at the big, covered iron kettles hanging in the fireplace. “Have y'all had your supper, Aunt Saphronia?” she asked. “Something sure smells good.”

The old woman shook her head. “We eat when you eat.”

Mandie smiled, grateful that neither of her relatives had asked her about her unexpected visit. She went back to the bucket of water by the back door and dipped some into a washbin to wash her dirty, scraped-up hands before eating.

There was only friendly conversation during the meal. Uncle Wirt and the missionary did most of the talking. And Mandie was pleased
to see the young man trying to learn as much as he could about the Cherokee people and their customs.

Exhausted and starving, Mandie hurriedly ate the tasty stew set before her, then had a second helping. But she was so tired, she couldn't hold her head up.

She looked over at Snowball, asleep on the hearth by the fire. The Cherokees kept fires going in their huge fireplaces all year-round because they cooked their meals in kettles that hung over the flames. Some foods took days to cook over a low fire.

When the meal was over, the missionary stood up and thanked the Indian couple for their hospitality. “The food was delicious,” he said sincerely. “But it's getting late, and I must be finding a place to stay.”

The others also stood.

Uncle Wirt placed his hand on the missionary's shoulder. “Stay here,” he offered. “Bed up ladder.” He pointed to a ladder nearby that disappeared into a loft above.

The missionary hesitated. “Only if you allow me to pay you,” he said.

Anger clouded Uncle Wirt's old, wrinkled face.

Mandie could see that this was just the first of the clashes between Cherokee ways and white men's ways. She quickly spoke up. “Please understand. My Uncle Wirt is offering you hospitality. Since he has welcomed you to his house, he would be highly insulted if you insisted on paying for it.”

Uncle Wirt smiled at Mandie. “Papoose learning ways of our people,” he said.

The young man quickly apologized. “I . . . I'm . . . so sorry,” he stammered. “It's just that . . . I'm on an allowance from my church, and I . . . I thought perhaps . . . perhaps you could use a little extra money.”

“Not need money!” Uncle Wirt replied emphatically. “Money not buy food and bed in my house.”

“I apologize. Please forgive me,” the young missionary said, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. “I gratefully accept your offer.”

Uncle Wirt nodded his approval. “Two rooms up ladder,” he told him. “One for you. One for Papoose.”

“Thank you, sir,” Riley O'Neal said. “Now, would you please excuse me for a little while? I'd like to take a short walk to commune with my Savior.”

The old Indian smiled. “Go. I talk to Papoose.”

As the missionary went outside, Uncle Wirt turned to Mandie and indicated the cleared-off end of the long table. “Sit,” he ordered.

Sensing the sternness in the old man's voice, she quickly obeyed.

Uncle Wirt looked over at Aunt Saphronia, who was scuttling about, trying to clean up the supper dishes. “Come,” he called.

The little old woman instantly put down the dishes and hurried to her husband's side. Together they sat down across the table from Mandie.

Mandie knew what that meant. They weren't joining forces with her until they found out exactly what was going on and why she had suddenly shown up at their house. But she was surprised when Uncle Wirt spoke.

“Tsa'ni say he see Papoose near river. No one with her,” he began in a firm voice.

“Tsa'ni? I might have known,” Mandie groaned. “I tried to get him to give me a ride here to your house, but he said he wasn't coming this way. Then when I got here, I saw him drive off in a wagon.”

Aunt Saphronia said nothing but fixed a solemn, steady gaze on Mandie.

“Why Papoose alone?” the old man asked.

Mandie didn't really know where to begin. “Well . . .” she stalled, “you see . . . my mother has a new baby, and he cries and screams night and day, hardly ever stopping. I just can't stand the racket.” Once Mandie started talking, the words tumbled out in a steady stream.

“Not only that,” she continued, “my mother doesn't have any time for me anymore. That baby takes up every minute. Sometimes she doesn't even leave him so she can eat. And when I got home from school the other day, I found that Uncle John had gone to Richmond on business and left my mother to tend to that crying baby.” Stopping to take a breath, she watched for the old Indians' reactions.

“Humph!” Uncle Wirt grunted loudly. “Papoose ask Mother to come here?”

“N-no, but I left her a note,” Mandie said, lowering her eyes. “She'll know where I am when she finds the note. She's probably found it by now.”

“Humph!” the old Indian said again. “Papoose know must ask Mother. Papoose must go home. Ask Mother.”

“Uncle Wirt, please let me stay,” Mandie begged. “You are my kinspeople.”

Uncle Wirt shook his head. “Go home when sun come up,” he insisted. “No more talk.”

Mandie looked pleadingly at Aunt Saphronia, but the old woman just shook her head.

Uncle Wirt stood up. “Must send word. Cherokee powwow. Council house. School.”

He quickly left the cabin, leaving Mandie and Aunt Saphronia sitting there. Mandie knew it was useless to argue anymore tonight, but tomorrow morning she would try again.

“Wash,” Aunt Saphronia told her as she rose and pointed to the washbasin on the shelf by the back door. “Sleep.”

Both words sounded good to Mandie. “I know. I'm absolutely filthy,” she agreed. Walking across the room to the front door, she picked up her flour sack, which she had dropped when she came into the cabin. “I'll take water in the back room and clean up,” she said.

“Yes.” Aunt Saphronia nodded. She continued cleaning up the remains of their supper.

Mandie glanced over at the fireplace. Snowball still lay curled up there, snoozing away.

Uncle Wirt's house was larger than the other cabins at Bird-town. Behind the main room, there was a small room Uncle Wirt and his wife used for a bedroom. Most of the Cherokee cabins had only one large room that was curtained off for privacy at bedtime.

Mandie took a pan of clean water, a washcloth, soap, and towel, together with her flour sack, into the back bedroom to wash up and change into the only other dress she had with her. She had had only two dresses when she left Charley Gap to go live at Uncle John's house, and that was all she brought back here with her. She didn't want any of the fine clothes Uncle John had given her.

After bathing and dressing, Mandie brushed out her tangled hair. As she was plaiting it again into one long braid down her back, she heard voices in the main room.

What if her mother had found the note and sent someone here to look for her? What should she do? Give in? What would her mother do if she didn't?

Carrying the pan of water, she opened the door and went into the main room. Tsa'ni sat near the hearth, talking to his grandmother. Mandie angrily threw the water out the back door, then returned to confront her cousin.

Refreshed after washing and changing clothes, Mandie felt up to a serious conversation with Tsa'ni. Quietly walking across the room, she sat down on a small stool near him. He looked over at her with a sulky expression as his grandmother returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“Tsa'ni, why did you tell me a lie?” she asked. “You said you weren't going to your grandfather's house. Yet when I finally got here, you were just about to take off in your wagon.”

“I told you. I changed my mind,” the Indian boy replied. “Besides, I do not have to give you a ride if I do not want to.”

Mandie heard Aunt Saphronia gasp at his smart remark.

Tsa'ni stood up and stepped outside. Mandie followed. It was already dark, but the full moon shone brightly.

“No, you don't have to give me a ride, but you could at least tell the truth,” Mandie said. “I'm not your enemy, Tsa'ni. I want to be your friend. We
are
cousins, in case you've forgotten.”

Tsa'ni walked over to a long fallen log and sat down. Mandie joined him, sitting on the other end.