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It was the middle of the night when Sarah heard the moaning restless man below her. He was thrashing and fighting his bindings. Sarah turned up the oil lamp and she peered over the side at him. The poor man! He had to be miserable and she didn’t even have anything to give him for the pain. There was whiskey but she needed that for emergencies. She was surprised when he began to mutter in the language of the Cherokee. Real surprised, but then maybe she shouldn’t be. As she studied his face in the dim light she realized he was part Indian. It didn’t show that much but he did have the dark complexion and the black hair. She remembered his dark brown eyes. Yup, he was part Indian. Cherokee it seemed. She would bet her last dollar his way was rough in the world, as rough as hers was. Half-breeds didn’t fare any better than the Indians. Everyone in the state it seemed wanted to see the Indians moved off their lands, away from Georgia. It was a sad state of affairs.
“Ga-do-de-tsa do? What is your name?” Sarah asked him quietly in Cherokee. He probably wouldn’t wake up but she didn’t want to take the chance of startling him.
He calmed down a little. “Long Shadow.” He answered in an anguished voice. “Hi-tsa-la-gi-s?”
“No I am not Cherokee.” Sarah answered softly in English. “You will be okay Long Shadow.” She reassured him. “Rest and sleep in peace. You aren’t alone.”
It wasn’t long until he was sleeping soundly and quietly again and she turned down the oil lamp. |
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