Timecachers (20 page)

“Man, we’ll be here all day!” Sal complained to Isaac.

“Yes, suh,” he replied. “This day and a few mo’ like ‘em.” He reached into the bag of supplies he had brought along from the barn, retrieved two battered straw hats, handed them to Sal and Adam, and headed off to the field he was planning to plow.

“Don’t worry, the women will come out later on and take over the planting, so you will be able to help with the real work,” said Billy. He turned and ran after Isaac. “Unless you would rather do women’s work,” he yelled back over his shoulder.

“Smartass little Indian,” Sal mumbled as he jammed the corn planter into the next hole.

Chapter eighteen

B
reakfast was barely cleaned up when Catherine began making plans for the evening meal. She sent Alice and Sally to the smokehouse for meat, and reminded Sally to stop along the way and “tend the kraut.” As they headed out the kitchen door, Sally stopped and sat down on the edge of the porch next to the rain barrel, pulled off her shoes, and dipped rainwater from the barrel to scrub her feet. Alice watched her curiously. “Oh, my, is it a Cherokee custom to wash your feet before you go to the smokehouse? Should I wash mine, too?”

“No, silly, stop teasing me. You heard mother tell me to tend the kraut. You wouldn’t want me to do it with dirty feet, would you?” Sally said.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Alice said hesitantly, completely not getting the correlation between kraut and dirty feet. She watched as Sally went over to one of the large oak barrels on the porch and pulled off the wooden lid, revealing a nearly full barrel of sauerkraut.

Sally scooped some salt from a sack under the table, mixed it into a partial bucket of water and poured it into the kraut barrel. Then she climbed onto the table, held out her hand to Alice and said, “Hold my hand, please.”

When Alice took her hand, to her amazement Sally stepped off the table and into the kraut barrel, stomping up and down in the briny water. “It is harder to do this in the summertime,” said Sally, “because my feet get so dirty from walking around barefoot and I have to spend more time scrubbing them. If I have been wearing shoes, I barely have to wash them at all!”

“Great,” said Alice. “If I have any sauerkraut, I’ll know what that extra special taste is.”

“This barrel isn’t ripe yet,” Sally said. “The one over by the door is from last year. That one has got the kraut that’s ready to eat.”

When Sally said she was done, Alice lifted her from the barrel and replaced the top. Sally rinsed her feet and put her shoes back on, took Alice by the hand again and led her down the path to the smokehouse. The smokehouse was a tall, sturdy wooden shed, with a small covered opening at the top. There were hooks for hanging meat under the eaves, and from one end of the shed a beam with a rope and hook held a field dressed deer, hanging about ten feet in the air. “That’s the deer father and Billy brought home yesterday,” Sally said. “They let it hang overnight, but Silvey will be here later to quarter it and pack it in salt. It will be too warm to let it hang all day.”

Inside the smokehouse there were more wooden barrels, sacks of salt, and a few dozen hunks of meat hanging from the roof. In the center, directly under the roof vent, was a fire pit. At the moment there was no fire; most of the time the smokehouse served as a meat storage locker. Alice recalled that preserving meat without refrigeration would mean cutting the meat into chunks, packing them into the salt barrels to cure, and then hanging the pieces over a slow smoldering fire. Once smoked, the meat could be kept hanging for well over a year. Sally pointed to a hanging piece of cured pork that her mother would want to prepare for the evening meal. Alice carefully removed the heavy haunch, and dropped it into a cloth sack that Sally brought along.

The two farm dogs had finally roused themselves and were waiting at the door as they left the smokehouse. They pranced around eagerly, blocking the way, hoping for a chance at a dropped piece of meat. Sally tossed them a couple of scraps, and then firmly shooed them away. She tightly closed the smokehouse door, and Alice heaved the sack of meat over her shoulder to keep the dogs away from it. They wolfed down the scraps and closely followed Alice back to the house, running underfoot so that she had to be careful not to trip and fall over them. The dogs paid little attention to Alice’s meek commands to “shoo” and “get away now.” Sally simply picked up a large stick and whacked one of them across the rump, and sternly told them to “git.” The struck dog let out a yelp and they both backed away, keeping their distance from Alice’s feet—and Sally’s stick.

Safely delivering the pork to Catherine, Alice could see that the two women had been busy preparing the rest of the meal and already had several pots hanging in the fire. Silvey was out on the porch, using a long, heavy pole to crush corn in a large bowl carved into a hollowed-out stump.

“We let the corn soak in lye water until the skins slip off, then grind the corn into meal with the
kanona
for making the bread,” Catherine explained. “We also use the hominy mush to make a drink called
gahnohayna
, which we serve to our visitors. Later, we will take out some corn bread and a few slices of the leftover breakfast bacon to the men for lunch. It will be getting warmer by then, and they will want us to help with the planting.”

“I don’t suppose they will come in to help prepare the meals?” Alice asked.

“No, of course not. Is it tradition where you come from for the men to prepare the meals?”

“Sometimes they do, but many people go out to eat at a restaurant.”

“A resta…?” Catherine struggled with the word.

“Like an inn or a tavern. A place where you can go and order your food. They prepare it and serve it to you. All you have to do is eat it.”

“Oh, yes. I have heard that there are such fancy places in the towns where the white people live. But, if you don’t have to prepare your meals, that must leave much idle time for the people. I wonder if that would make them become lazy.”

“I suppose it could, but most of us seem to find other things to fill up the day,” Alice said, thinking about how many times she had complained about not having enough time to get her work done.

For the rest of the morning, Alice mostly worked in the kitchen with Sally, cutting up meat and vegetables for the evening meal. She took a turn at the
kanona
so Silvey could go take care of the deer, listening to Catherine describe recipes for the traditional Cherokee meals they made as she pounded the corn. She told Alice that the majority of the meals they made now were “white people’s food,” but there were several Cherokee meals they still enjoyed. She liked making the Cherokee recipes because it reminded her of her childhood and her mother’s cooking.

“Some of our friends will only eat food prepared in the traditional Cherokee style. They believe it is important to keep those things as part of their life. I believe that also, but our family has also tried to adopt many of the white people’s traditions too. We hope that by doing so it will ease tensions between our two cultures, and will help us become more accepting of each other.”

Catherine knew that some of the Cherokee felt that holding on to their traditions was the only way they would be able to keep their homeland safe from more intrusion. It polarized the people between those who were committed traditionalists and those who were more accepting of the white ways. There were times when she felt the traditionalists were right. It seemed to make little difference to the whites no matter how much they changed; they would never accept the Cherokee as equals.

Catherine intentionally assigned several tasks for Alice and Sally to do together. Even though they were far apart in age, she knew that Sally longed to have a younger woman around, and had often told her mother she wished she had a sister. It could get lonely for a seven year old girl on the farm. She and her brother were close, but it was not the same as having a sister to work, play, and share secrets with. Billy was nearly ten, and had begun spending more time with his father, working on the farm and accompanying him on hunting and fishing trips. That was a good thing, she knew, but it made for many lonely days of playing alone for Sally. Catherine was grateful that Alice didn’t seem to mind Sally following her about, and seemed to enjoy spending time with her.

By noontime, Catherine had prepared a basket of cornbread and some slabs of bacon, along with a jug of peach cider, to take to the men for lunch. She sent Alice and Sally to fill buckets of drinking water from the spring to replenish the supply for the house and to take to the fields. Once they had gathered everything together, each of the four women grabbed a basket, jug, or bucket and headed off to the fields.

They met up with Benjamin and Tom by a large oak tree, which had just begun re-sprouting its leaves. Several sawn logs were under the tree to use for seats and tables. The women placed the baskets of food on the logs, and the two men wasted no time digging in.

Catherine wrapped a small bundle of food and gave it to Silvey to bring to Isaac, who was still out in the cornfield. It was not customary for slaves to eat with their masters. The practice of slavery repulsed Alice, but she tried to understand that it was acceptable to the people of this time. She thought it was best to leave her thoughts about slavery unspoken for the moment.

“Oh, my goodness, you really stink!” said Alice as Tom walked by her. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Don’t ask,” he answered. “Just be glad you got to work at the house.”

“I had a great time working with Sally, and she certainly smells a lot better than you two,” she said, winking at the little girl who giggled and held her nose.

As they began eating, they heard Sal’s voice from across the field, “Hey dudes, save some grub for us!”

Adam, Sal, and Billy jogged up to the tree and rummaged through the baskets of food. “Well at least you three smell a little better than Tom. Nice hats,” Alice said to Sal and Adam, who were still wearing the straw hats Isaac had given them. Sal removed his hat with a flourish and bowed deeply.

“You look like one of those Italian hot dog vendors down at the Jersey shore,” Alice said.

“Today I’m a Cherokee corn planter from Georgia,” he said, “and I’m about fed up with it. Four hours of dig the hole, drop in the seed, and cover it up, is about all I can take.”

“That is good,” said Benjamin, “because when we are through eating, the women will take over the planting, and you and Adam will join in our work.”

“Now you get to be a Georgia shit-shoveler,” Tom whispered to Sal.

After a quick lunch, the women headed to the cornfield and the men joined Benjamin in fertilizing the field. Isaac soon arrived with the plow to begin turning over the soil, and Benjamin teamed Sal with him to lead the horses. He could see that Sal was clearly going to do more complaining than manure spreading. He sent Billy off to the farmhouse to work on his studies. Billy protested, but quieted quickly after receiving a stern glance from his father.

“I have him attend one of the mission schools near New Echota when he can, but it is hard to do without him on the farm this time of year. It is my wish that he become well educated in both Cherokee and white man’s knowledge, learning both cultures as John Carter has done. John had several brothers and his family could afford more slaves, so it was possible for him to spend more time at school,” he said to Adam.

“Getting an education is important, even in the world we come from, Benjamin,” said Adam, as he tossed another shovel full of manure. “He is a very bright boy, and there have been many very successful men through history who were educated at home. I’m sure if he works hard at his studies he will do well.”

“I believe that his education will be important for his acceptance into the white man’s world.”

“Unfortunately, there is greed and bigotry within people of all cultures. Education helps, but doesn’t eliminate it. There are plenty of well-educated men who let those bad qualities guide their actions. The best you can hope for is that between a good education and your fine example, your children will learn to recognize both the good and bad qualities in all those they meet, and know how to deal with it appropriately.”

“That is very well said, Adam. Spoken like a wise Cherokee. Perhaps you have some Indian blood in you.”

“Doesn’t everyone have an Indian princess in their family tree somewhere?” Adam said with a grin. “I think by the time I’m done with this job, people might think I’m part skunk! Phew, what a stench!”

“Ah, my friend, a farmer comes to recognize that smell as the sweet smell of home. If he is away from his home, and smells a field that has been freshly manured, it reminds him of his own fields.”

“It reminds me of a few places in Jersey,” said Sal, overhearing the comment as he passed by leading the plow horses.

“Then you are fortunate,” Benjamin shouted back, “to come from a place with such rich, fertile soil!”

They worked through the afternoon, enjoying the warmth of the Georgia sunshine. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect, warm enough to be comfortable, scant humidity, and a gentle breeze blowing across the fields that kept them cool and helped dispel the smell of the manure. The sky was layered with color; pale turquoise with fluffy white cloud puffs that drifted between the mountaintops in the distance. Below the clouds the sky became a deep azure blue, accented by an emerging pink streak as the sun made its way toward the western horizon. The fanning spring-green treetops tenderly cradled the sky, their brown trunks like supporting pillars from Mother Earth below.