By Way of the Rose (10 page)

“I'd like that doll,” she pointed.

“She sho'ly is pretty. I done ironed her for myself, but I'll iron her for you too.” She moved the iron back and forth over the doll's picture and said. “I be ironing dis here doll for Miss Sarah DuVal.” She spoke in a slow, purposeful tone.

Sarah smiled. She liked this game! She sat down on the porch with Thorney and they took turns
ironing
just about everything in that book. When she returned home that evening, Sarah told Jennie and Betty about how to iron stuff in the catalog that you want and you will get it. They sat in the parlor with the catalogs and the heavy cast iron and took turns picking out and ironing everything they wanted.

Daniel walked in and sat in his chair. “What are you young'uns doing?”

“We're ironing the things we want.” Sarah informed him. “You can have anything in here you want if you iron it.”

“And where did you come up with this notion?”

“Thorney. She said her momma told her that from now on they could have anything they ironed! And we can have anything we iron too.”

“Sarah, sweetie.” Daniel chuckled. “Ester meant that now they could have anything they earned. She's saying ‘earn’ not iron.”

“Oh.” Sarah's face dropped. “Thorney's going to be so disappointed.”

Ladies began to invite Marion to teas and gatherings. The men folk included Daniel in their meetings. Over time the talks at the meetings grew more serious as the DuVal slaves began to act independent and free, going into town and shopping at the stores with Ester and her children even daring to visit the library!

One evening at a dinner party held by the Eastlands it all came to a head when Mr. Eastland started by saying. “Now, Daniel, I don't want to tell you how to run your place, but you do know it ain't good business to hire the local peons and set your slaves free. My Trissy said that little slave gal of yours came right up to her and just started talking to her. You have them walking around town just as big as day and they're getting to where they don't know their place!”

“
Place
? What
place
would that be, now? Under my thumb and under your little Trissy's heel?”

“Without control and order they'll turn back to their wild ways, all running around wild as jackrabbits with gourds on their tails! They have to be told what to do. Do you see what I'm saying?”

“Yeah, I see. I buy them, I train them, I own them and I work them to death. No thanks, I'll do business my own way. I'm quite certain that my six slaves having freedom ain't going to ruin the world.”

“You're more stubborn than my worst mule. But I understand how it is with you. Your money was easily come-by, I had to work to get to where I am.”

Daniel laughed loudly. “Don't try to pull that on me, Eastland. I know all about your inheritance. I think the only hard work you did was swindling your brother out of his share.”

Mr. Eastland's face turned as red as a boiled beet. “You'll never rise above your petty ideals and stupidity.” He wheeled around and stomped away.

Marion, in the meantime, was having her own confrontations with the ladies.

“I simply don't see how you manage to make ends meet with your husband throwing money to the riff-raff as he does. You really should talk some sense into him. Your slaves are an investment and you're not getting the most out of them by setting them free. Free to wander around town as if they're just like us.”

“I will not own another human being, Mrs. Eastland. It's not right. I don't care if we go broke we will never become a master of humankind. Why, you people give more freedom to your old dogs than you do the slaves. I think it's shameful and you should be ashamed of yourself!”

“Give them an inch they'll take a mile. We paid good money for them. We have a right to expect them to stay where we put them or else we will chain the hell out of them. You talk as if those blasted cannibals are as good as we are!” Mrs. Eastland snapped. “I can't even go into town with my daughter anymore. That darn Hamilton lets them try on the bonnets and everything in the store. I wouldn't dare shop there now. Your letting them roam like you do is reckless, to say the least! It's not safe for you or your family either. It's folks like you who get burned out, if you know what I mean.”

“Is that a threat?” Marion's voice rose.

“No, dear, it's a kindly
warning
,” Mrs. Eastland emphasized. “I've heard the talk. I'm just looking out for you and your family's welfare.”

“You're looking out for us?” Marion huffed. “The very idea!” She slapped her napkin on the table. “It looks as if I'm spoiling tea for you good ladies. Please excuse me, I have to be getting home.
I
have work to do.” Marion angrily bounded from the room. She found Daniel standing on the porch of the fine Eastland mansion as she was making her stormy exit.

“Ready to go?” He smiled at her, as though knowing that they'd both had enough of this pompousness.

“Past ready,” she answered as she stomped down the steps. Daniel stood there for a minute more. “What's wrong, Daniel?” She turned and looked up at him.

“Nothing... just thinking.”

“About what?”

“That day I came here looking for work those years ago. Now, here we are coming here for parties and social events. I know one thing for sure, Marion... no matter how much money we make, land we buy or fine houses we build, we'll never be one of these people.” He motioned his head toward the Eastland home in exasperation.

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Marion smiled. “I like being myself. I love having standards and backbone enough not to roll with the flow when that flow is terribly wrong.”

“Me too.” He stepped down, took his wife's hand and led her to their carriage. “Let's go home.”

This was their last attempt at joining the socialites of Giles County, Tennessee.

As they walked into the house Marion saw Sarah, in the parlor on her knees, wiping up a spill from the embroidered-Spanish rug. “What have you done now?” She huffed as she walked over and looked at the spot “ The rug is ruined! I've told you not to bring drinks in here! Now, just look at what you've done!” Marion, already angry from her evening at the Eastland's, lashed out at Sarah. “We always bring trouble on ourselves by trying to help others! Indians and slaves alike!”

“Marion!” Daniel grabbed her arm. “Stop it, that's enough! That's our daughter and you've hurt her enough over Aggie's death! You just said, not thirty minutes ago, that you were better than this! You don't like rolling with a flow that's terribly wrong? Well, neither do I!”

Cora walked in. “I told you to get that up before they got home, Sarah.”

“You can do it yourself from now on!” Sarah threw the rag at Cora and ran from the room crying.

“Cora May, you're the one who spilt milk on the rug?” Daniel questioned.

“Yes, sir. But it was an accident. Nathan was chasing me and I fell with my milk and it spilt. I told Sarah to have it up before you and Momma got back. But she was too slow!”

“Why didn't you clean it up yourself?”

“Well, Nathan says Sarah has to earn her keep, so she should have to clean up after us.”

“Oh, he did, huh? I've got news for you and Nathan, everyone around here does their part and everyone around here cleans up after themselves. You get that spot up, now.”

“I'm going to rest for a while.” Marion went upstairs to her and Daniel's bedroom. Tears of regret stung her eyes. Why couldn't she love this Indian child as a mother should? It had once been so easy. But Agnes's death had stripped that love from her heart. Maybe it would be better for Sarah if she knew the truth. Marion went to the chiffarobe, opened the door and reached to the back where she kept a small box. It held the beads that the Indian mother had placed over Sarah's head when she was born. Marion slowly made her way to Sarah's room and knocked on the door. “May I come in?” She softly spoke. Sarah swiped the tears off her face and sat up on the bed from where she'd been sobbing into her pillow.

“Yes.” Sarah sniffled.

Marion came through the door and just stood for a moment. “Sarah you know you're different, don't you?”

“I feel alone sometimes, like nobody but John really loves me. Does that make me different?”

Marion sat beside her and held the box on her lap. She reached over and smoothed Sarah's long, shiny hair. “Your hair is so silky and straight, not like ours. But it is just like someone else's. Someone who loved you with all their heart.”

“Who? Who loved me and had hair like mine?”

“Well, there's something you need to know. Maybe it'll help you to know who you really are. I know this person who loved you so much wanted you to know who she was, I just never knew when exactly I should tell you and when you'd be old enough to keep this secret. Are you old enough to keep a secret if I tell it to you?”

“Yes, ma'am. I can keep a secret. I can keep a secret for as long as you want me to.”

“Well, this is a secret that you can't tell anyone, not even your closest friend. You are really an Indian. Your real mother was a Cherokee woman. She was hurt very bad on the move west. Daniel and John found her while they were out hunting and brought her home where we cared for her. We tried our best but she was hurt too bad. She died right after she had you. I had just lost a baby so you fit in perfectly. No one knew the difference.”

“Did you know her name?”

“The only thing she said before she died was the word, Sehoya. From that we decided to name you Sarah.”

“Sehoya.” Sarah softly repeated the name. “I'm Sehoya.”

“She also wanted you to have these.” Marion handed her the box. Sarah opened it and saw the carved beads for the first time. They were dark and shiny. Small, intricate designs decorated each round wooden bead. “They're so beautiful.” She lifted them from the box and held them as if they were alive with the spirit of her mother.

“I hope that knowing this helps you. But remember, you can never tell anyone else. We hid you for a reason. Life as an Indian is worse than that of being a Negro slave. Men want to rule over Negro slaves, but they seek to completely obliterate Indians... Erase them from the face of the earth. You must keep our secret.”

“Yes, ma'am. I will.” Sarah lovingly gazed upon the beads.

“Here, let me help you to put them on.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sarah smiled. “Momma, I feel that I should be sad to know that I'm not really a DuVal, but I'm not. I'm glad of who I am. Now I understand why I've always felt like an outsider. I am an outsider, and knowing this does help me. Thank you, Momma.”

That night Sarah rested peacefully knowing that she was Sehoya. She was a Cherokee.

The next morning, Daniel called the workers together. “I hate to say this, but it looks like we're ruffling too many feathers. For everyone concerned, I have to ask you all not to go into town without us. I know it's not fair, but it's the world we live in. I suppose the only way to live like you want to live is to move north, and I won't blame you if you do.”

Jonas looked at Daniel. “Me and mine is staying until we work off our debt to you, sir. That's the least we can do for what you done for us.”

“I sure would appreciate it. But as I said, any of you can go at any time. If it gets too bad for you here, I'll understand.”

In the end all of them decided to work off the debt before beginning to save every penny to move north.

Nathan and Cora stood down by the stream watching as Sarah, Greta, Shane, Jennie, Bettie and now Thorney and Thomas were all swimming, climbing trees and swinging on grape vines. They laughed and squealed, splashed and played. Cora looked at Nathan. “Can't we just go play a little? We don't have to like them. It's our stream too.”

“No!” Nathan spat the word at Cora.

“Why not?”

“You do what you want to, I'm going to the house.” He turned to leave. Cora stayed. Nathan paused and turned. “Cora.” He huffed. He couldn't believe she hadn't trailed behind him like a puppy. “Come on!”

“But you said I could stay if I wanted to.”

“You wanna stay down here with a bunch of gals, Injuns and Negras?”

“Um, no... no. I'm coming with you.”

“Well, if you want to.”

The look in his eyes let her know she'd better want to. She wistfully looked back as they walked away. It was becoming so hard to hate gals, Injuns and Negras!

Back in Rochester, John still worked at the Gazette when he wasn't zigzagging the southern lands. They continued to print the paper even though it was more difficult to get it to their intended readers... southerners. The southern states had banned it from traveling through the mail, with more and more states censoring it. But thankfully, this southern gent, ‘Kyle Adams,’ could go anywhere he pleased and take the copies with him. Most times he played the part of a poor southern farmer. Men who didn't own plantations or businesses were more prone to listen to him. But heaven help him if a hot-head found him out. John slipped around at night leaving the Gazette in businesses, on doors, in parked wagons or anywhere he could get away with doing so.

Many of the people he talked to were sympathetic, yet even more were not. There were times he could almost feel the noose around his neck. He was quick to leave one town and head for the next, never staying in any place more than a night. By the time anyone knew he was there, he had already gone. Like a breeze, he quickly swept through their towns, leaving behind a breath of fresh air for those who also wished to take up the cause.

Sarah's folks, who were now well off, encouraged her to try Eagleton's school. “You're taking up space in the free school that some poor child could be using. Maybe you should try Eagleton,” Marion said.

“But my friends go to the free school and I love Mrs. Lykes. I don't know anyone at Eagleton.”

“You know Trissy. You two seemed to have a good time when we were visiting the Eastland's.”

“She's all right I guess, but I don't know her like I know Greta and Shane, they're my best friends.”

“You'll make new friends. Try it.”

“If I don't like it can I please go back to the free school?”