War Woman (6 page)

About ten minutes later Running Bear entered the dwelling, glanced at Jonathan and exchanged a few words with his sister in Cherokee before making his way towards where Jonathan sat.

“You save my life. Thank you.” The words were offered simply but with an honesty that was apparent. Jonathan answered his words in kind. “You saved my life. I’m grateful to you. I’m sorry some of your warriors were killed. You may not believe me but, apart from the sergeant, it wasn’t planned. We were forced to defend ourselves, as were you.”

“Death is warrior’s way. They accept. Your men accept?”

“Not all of them…”

The two men paused, assessing one another, before Running Bear indicated the boy next to him. “You meet nephew.”

Jonathan smiled. “Yes, he seems quite fearless, like his uncle.”

Running Bear smiled fondly at the boy as he touched his hair affectionately. “He great warrior one day.”

The warrior moved away, calling the boy to come with as he sat beside his family members and engaged them in discussion. After stoking up the fire the War Woman came to sit near Jonathan.

The woman ate her food as she watched her brother and an older woman talking in Cherokee. She smiled every now and then and Jonathan wondered what the pair were talking about. However he felt it would be rude to ask. After a few minutes had passed though, the War Woman turned her focus to Jonathan. “Is your name Wilson? My brother says the sergeant called you Wilson.”

“Wilson is my last name. My first name is Jonathan. What’s your name?”

“Atsila.”

Jonathan tested the name, repeating it out loud. “Atsila…does it have a particular meaning?”

“It means ‘fire’”.

How aptly the name fitted her. She would no doubt have been fierce and wild in battle to have become the War Woman.
Unbidden, the thought surfaced in his mind.
I also bet she’s caused a fire to burn in the hearts of many men, a fire they’ll never quench
. Drawing himself back to the present, he berated himself silently.
Don’t be a fool, you can’t afford such thoughts. You need to focus on getting out of this village
. 

Trying to distract himself from his present train of thought, he asked which of the family members present was her sister. When she replied that her sister was dead, he stared awkwardly at his hands, trying desperately to come up with another question that would change the subject. “How do you and your brother know English?”

“Missionaries came to our village many years ago. We were children at the time and picked up the language relatively quickly. However I was always more of a student than my brother. He was interested in learning English but he gave far more time to his training and his horses.” She smiled fondly at her brother. “Of course, I also have cause to use English more than he does when I meet with outsiders in my duties as the Ghigau.” 

“Is this your brother’s house?”

“No, it’s mine. All the village buildings are owned by women.” She laughed when she noted his look of surprise. “The Cherokee clans are matriarchal but women and men are considered equal. This is different to your Western ways.”

“Yes, it is.” The men back at his army base camp would think that kind of society absurd. It seemed he had a lot to learn about the Cherokee, but despite his misgivings about remaining in the village for an indefinite period of time, he was eager to learn as much as he could. 

She glanced at his wounds. “How are you feeling?”

“Better after the food. The wounds hurt, but not much to be done there except wait until they heal.”

“That’s not true. I can give you something for the pain. A kind of tea. It will help you to sleep. I’ll make you some now. Your dressing will need to be changed in the morning.” As she stood up and made her way across the room to prepare the tea, Jonathan noted the graceful way she moved. Whether she was walking or doing things with her hands, her actions were light and fluid. He couldn’t tell what ingredients she was using but he took the offered cup when the tea was ready and drank nonetheless. The liquid didn’t have the slight bitterness of the one he had drank previously and it was actually quite pleasant to drink. He suspected some sort of berry had been added as it had a fruitiness to it that made it very palatable. 

He noted after a few minutes that the pain in his shoulder and side didn’t seem as harsh and he also noted a drowsiness descending on him and beckoning him to close his eyes. Noting the effect of the tea, Atsila left him to speak to her brother briefly before they returned to Jonathan. “My brother will help you outside so you can relieve yourself before you sleep.” She pulled back the blanket and, with her brother’s assistance, helped Jonathan to stand up. Leaning on the Cherokee warrior for support, Jonathan made his way outside. He didn’t like the feeling of being weak but he couldn’t push himself or it would just take longer to heal. After completing his business, he was helped back inside and settled on his sleeping mat.

Glancing once more at the dressings to ensure they were secure, Atsila drew the blanket over him. “Sleep now, Jonathan.”

He stared up at her face, his eyelids drooping as the tea’s effect on him increased. “Thank you for your kindness, Atsila,” he murmured and within a few minutes he was fast asleep.

***

The throbbing woke him and it took a few seconds for Jonathan to get his bearings. He noted the sunlight that streaked in beneath the animal skin that served as a door. Looking around, he also noted the other sleeping mats were unoccupied. He was alone in the dwelling. Grimacing slightly, he attempted to sit up. It was a slow, uncomfortable process but eventually he managed to sit upright. Leaning against the wall in order to let the throbbing, which had increased due to his movements, subside he decided it was time to test whether he could leave the building under his own efforts.

Pushing the blanket off his body, he placed both hands on the floor next to his uninjured side and slowly rolled himself until he was leaning on his arms. With a steady, sustained push he supported himself until he could move his knees beneath him but even this simple action had pain shooting through his side and shoulder. Not willing to give up just yet, he paused for several seconds before raising one knee and pushing with it as he steadied himself by leaning his arm against the wall. His wounds protested at his efforts but he continued on until he was standing. Hearing movement at the entrance, he glanced to the door and watched Atsila enter.

She was carrying something in a basket which she deposited near the place where she had made the tea the night before. Turning in his direction, a look of disapproval fell over her face. “You should not have moved without help.”

“I’m fine,” Jonathan lied, trying to sound nonchalant as she came towards him and surveyed his wounds.

“I think you are an honest man, Jonathan. It’s why you lie so poorly.” She gazed at him for several seconds, without saying anything further.

“I needed to test my strength,” Jonathan finally admitted with a sigh. “I wasn’t going to push myself but I at least needed to know how much these injuries are affecting my ability to function normally.” Seeing the look of disapproval had not left her face, he shrugged. “I’m a stubborn man.”

“I suspected as much. Since you’re standing, come with me. I’ll change your dressings.” A small thrill went through Jonathan as she moved to stand next to him and wrapped her arm around his body, encouraging him to lean on her for support as they made their way to the basket she had deposited on the floor. Her hair tickled his bare skin as it brushed softly against it. He reveled in the warmth of her body as it seeped into his own and cursed inwardly in equal measure at wanting to draw her softness closer against him.  

On reaching the basket she withdrew from his side, causing him to frown as a part of him protested her absence.
Get ahold of yourself, Jonathan. These thoughts and feelings are not an option
. He watched as she stooped and collected a selection of plants from the basket. His eyes never left her deft fingers as she made a paste from the plants and a few other ingredients she had within the dwelling. Moving to stand in front of him, she removed his current dressings and inspected the wounds before applying new dressings using the paste she had made. Though she tried to be as gentle as possible, he still felt pain while she applied the dressings but he welcomed it as a distraction from inappropriate thoughts of her lips as she spoke to him, explaining the various purposes of the ingredients that were used in the paste.

After several minutes had passed, she stepped back and assessed her work. “That will do until tonight. I’ve kept some food from breakfast for you.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past midday.”

Jonathan was surprised he had slept so long. Whatever was in that tea had done its work properly. Atsila retrieved the food she had stored for him and busied herself with making a lighter version of the tea she had given him the night before that would help to alleviate his pain without making him drowsy. As he ate and drank, she gathered what appeared to be weaving supplies. When he was finished she moved to support him again. “I’ll help you back to bed.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not go back. Do you mind if I stretch my legs outside?”

“Of course not. If you’re feeling up to it, we can start with your first lesson. I’m joining some of the other women and we’re going to be weaving.”

“Creating things like those mats and baskets?” He indicated the various pieces around her home.

“Yes. It’s an activity carried out by the women. Later on today I’ll get my brother to show you how the Cherokee make weapons.” Stooping to pick up her supplies with one hand, she supported him as they made their way slowly out of her home and into the daylight. Jonathan breathed in, enjoying the fresh air and the feel of the sun on his skin. Villagers paused to look at him as they passed but nobody said anything or attempted to come near him. Reaching the place where the women were weaving, Atsila helped Jonathan to sit down before she assembled her supplies in front of her and began her work.

There were several woven items in various stages of completion and as the women worked Atsila explained that it could take several weeks for a piece to be completed. Though the women were reserved at first, they relaxed as they noted his genuine interest and talked quietly amongst themselves in Cherokee as he watched them work. Later in the day Atsila’s brother took him to watch the weapon makers at work as they prepared the likes of arrowheads and blowguns.

As the days and weeks passed, Jonathan’s relationships with the villagers began to improve. Some still treated him with hostility but many were curious about him and made an effort to socialize with him. A few Cherokee understood English to a sufficient extent that Jonathan could converse with them. He also began to learn some basic Cherokee words, increasing his vocabulary each day until he could utter broken Cherokee sentences that were intelligible to the villagers.

The Cherokee had brought back the soldiers’ horses and he was glad to have been reunited with his journal, which had been in his saddlebag on the day of the fight. Each day he would make notes regarding the things he had learned, and sometimes he would sketch some of the villagers or the surrounding landscape. 

As his wounds healed and his strength returned, Jonathan participated in some of the military training exercises the Cherokee warriors took part in. He was also encouraged to join in the dancing that accompanied the various celebrations that took place within the village. He learned how to make instruments such as rivercane flutes and water drums. He marveled at the Cherokee’s pottery and woodcarving skills. Every day brought new discoveries as well as different ways of looking at the world. Jonathan loved hearing about the myths and histories associated with the village. The large variety of spirits that formed part of the Cherokee culture fascinated him. Most of all he respected their complete harmony with the natural world. They lived within their surroundings as a part of nature, not as a separate entity intent on dominating it.

Throughout his journey of discovery Atsila was his guide, demonstrating, translating, encouraging participation on both sides. He was an eager student, partly because he was genuinely interested in learning about the Cherokee culture but also, if he was honest with himself, because he wanted to please her. Initially Jonathan had wanted to gather as much information as he could and gain the trust of the village so that they would allow him to leave. He wanted to represent their views to his superiors in the United States army, hoping that they would be prepared to listen to him as one of their own who had had first-hand experience of the Cherokee way of life. As his time with the Cherokee villagers increased however, he felt himself becoming more and more reluctant to leave. He could admit to himself that it was one Cherokee in particular who made him want to stay.

Though he had a respect and fondness for most of the villagers (there were still a few that disliked and distrusted him) and had developed genuine friendships, it was Atsila who kept him bound here. It wasn’t just her beauty that had captured him though. The same age as Jonathan, she had a wisdom far beyond her years that he respected. She was kind to everyone, from children to elders, and fair when it came to making decisions. People came to her for advice and held her in high regard, which spoke volumes to Jonathan. She had an innate strength of character combined with a vitality and love of life that he couldn’t help but be drawn to.