Timecachers (30 page)

The cabin was much smaller than Benjamin’s farmhouse. The furnishings were rustic, and the place was immaculately clean. The air in the cabin was filled with delicious smells, none immediately identifiable to Tom, but appetizing nonetheless. They passed through the front room into the kitchen, the largest room in the cabin.

In the kitchen were four other people. Sitting in a rocking chair was an elderly woman with a dark brown face so creased and wrinkled her skin looked like distressed leather. She wore a white dress decorated with a colorful pattern of morning glory vines. The old woman rocked slowly, murmuring into the ear of a very young child who had climbed into her lap when the strangers entered the room. She did not acknowledge their presence, but the little boy kept a wary eye on them, quickly turning his face into the folds of the old lady’s dress if anyone dared to look back.

A younger woman stood over the enormous hearth tending an eclectic collection of cooking pots and kettles, each simmering, frying, or roasting some kind of victuals, providing the source of the mouth-watering aromas. Her jet black hair was pulled tightly into a single ponytail, revealing her round, youthful face and strong jaw line. She wore a plaid, threadbare dress, and around her neck was a single ornament, a wide, choker necklace made from four alternating rows of polished black and white beads. The fourth person, a tiny infant, was strapped to the back of the young woman, its head bobbing as she went about tending the cooking pots.

“I thought I heard voices,” said the young woman. “
’Siyo
, John Carter,
tohitsu
?”

“
’Siyo, tohigwu
,” John answered. “
Nihina,
Woyi?”

“
Osdi
,” Woyi answered, “very worried about what will become of us, but mostly good. I heard laughter as you came in. Do you have good news to share?”

“Unfortunately I do not,” John said. “We were just joking around. ‘
Siyo
, Ahni.”

“
Osiyo
,” answered the old woman. Her voice creaked like the rocking chair she sat in. She nodded at John, but did not look at him.

“I would like you to meet Tom Woody, my traveling companion. Tom, this is Woyi, Guwaya’s wife, and Ahni, who is Guwaya’s mother. The little one on Ahni’s lap is Sagi, their son.”

“
Osiyo
, Tom Woody,” said Woyi and Ahni.

“
Osiyo
, ladies,” Tom answered. His steel-gray eyes focused on each face, giving them a long, friendly look, believing he was being a courteous southern gentleman. “And
osiyo
to you, too, little Sagi,” he said, bending down to the child and giving his hand a gentle shake.

“
’Siyo
,” replied Sagi in a tiny voice, giggling and swiftly turning his face back into his grandmother’s dress.

“Tom doesn’t speak Tsalagi,” said Guwaya, “before anyone else makes the same mistake I did.”

“I told Guwaya that so far I only know how to say hello and thank-you,” Tom added.

“Then you should get along fine with Sagi,” Woyi said. “He does not say much more than that, except to say is
A-gi-`yo-si
, which means ‘I’m hungry!”

“That is not surprising,” said John. “Woyi is an exquisite cook and her meals are most satisfying. If Guwaya wasn’t such a hard worker, he would be as big as a
yansa
!”

“
Ha
!” said Guwaya, feigning insult. “If I used my mouth to eat as much as you use yours to talk, I would indeed be as big as a buffalo!”

They all laughed and made themselves comfortable in the kitchen, talking about the planting chores and the good weather they’d been having so far this season. They explained to Tom that Ahni spoke mostly Cherokee, and repeated everything in both languages so neither she nor Tom would be left out of the conversation. Ahni actually understood many English words, but she found them difficult to pronounce.

After some polite talk, the discussion turned to the more serious topic of the impending deadline, and did anyone still have any hope that it could be avoided. John reiterated the conclusions of his earlier meeting; that each family would have to make their own decision and take action accordingly. He explained that Tom was willing to stay with them for a while, if they would have him, to offer any assistance he could, whether that be moving west or staying put. The Ward family said they would be most happy to have Tom as a guest, and were appreciative of his support.

Sagi began to get more comfortable around Tom and John, and climbed down from his grandmother’s lap to scurry about the kitchen. He cautiously stole glances at Tom, curiously checking him over whenever he thought Tom wasn’t paying attention.

Tom was almost equally curious about the baby, bobbing along on Woyi’s back, thinking that it was quite well-behaved for having its movements so restricted by being strapped to its mother’s back.

“What is your baby’s name?” Tom asked Woyi.

“We just call him
Usdi
,” said Woyi. “Except for his secret clan name, he hasn’t earned another name yet.”

“
Usdi
is just a word for little one,” John explained. “A child gets a name when he is born, given to him by an elder woman of the clan, but that name is known only to the clan. He will get a real name once he gets a little older and starts being a person. Sometimes a boy doesn’t get a name until he reaches puberty. He is just called ‘boy’ or ‘chooja’ until he earns himself a better name. But I don’t think Woyi and Guwaya will make him wait that long, since they have already named Sagi and he is only two. His name means Onion.”

“He earned that name,” said Guwaya. “He is always crawling around outside pulling up wild onions and eating them.”

“He won’t have to eat onions tonight,” said Woyi. “This meal is ready for anyone who wants to eat it.”

“Great!” said Tom. “
A-gi-`yo-si
! I could eat a
yansa
!”

“A-ha!” said Guwaya. “Tom has earned his food today. He has learned two more Tsalagi words! Very good!”

“
Wado
,” Tom said, to everyone’s laughter. He took a place at the table, looking over the mouth-watering food and anticipating a delicious meal.

During the meal, Ahni, using Guwaya as interpreter, asked Tom a few polite questions, such as if he had traveled far and if he was enjoying the meal. Tom replied to her, courteously answering directly to Ahni, speaking slowly so Guwaya had time to translate. Ahni kept her eyes lowered to the table, and suddenly spoke a few sharp sentences of Cherokee to Guwaya. He did not immediately translate, giving Tom an uncomfortable look.

“What is it?” asked Tom. “Did I do something wrong?”

John, who had been listening to the exchange, began laughing so hard he nearly choked on his food. “It is not customary to look someone directly in the eyes when speaking to them, and can be considered impolite or threatening. I know that for whites the opposite is true, so I will explain that you were trying to be polite.”

“Please do,” said Tom, ashamed that he had not considered the cultural differences. “I did not intend any discourtesy and I’ll try to keep that in mind when speaking to her and other Cherokee. Thank you for telling me, but why is it so funny to you that I offended her?”

“It wasn’t that,” John said after relaying Tom’s apology to Ahni. “It was what she said. Your name, Tom Woody, sounds like our word for hawk,
tawodi
. She asked Guwaya if you were named after a hawk because you stared at people so intently, as if you were getting ready to swoop down and capture an unsuspecting mouse,” he told Tom, still laughing.

“In Ahni’s case,” said Guwaya, “the hawk would be swooping down for a strawberry, since that is what her name means in English.

They were all laughing now, especially Ahni when she heard Guwaya’s translation. Even Tom laughed at the apt metaphor, relieved that Ahni had not been offended by his blunder.

There was a noticeable contrast between the spaciousness of Benjamin Rogers’ farmhouse and the Ward’s tiny cabin, although there were many similarities between the two families besides the apparent tribal connection. The emphasis on good and plentiful food, the open, friendly manner toward guests, and the cleanliness and order of the house were qualities that were present in both homes. Tom did not know the details of the Cherokee social structure, but Guwaya Ward and his family were undeniably on a different economic level. The furnishings of the cabin were sparse, and nearly everything was handmade. There was much less ornamentation around the house. Nearly everything was functional; the decorative items were limited to recently picked flowers and some small needlepoint wall hangings. Their clothing was heavily worn, showing the signs of multiple attempts at mending.

While some people may have felt uncomfortable around such meager surroundings, Tom had no problem in this regard. As a Southern man from a farming community, many of his friends and neighbors had different levels of prosperity. The Charlottesville, Virginia area was unique in that it had college students from all over the world, drawn by the university, as well as a farming community, many affluent business folk, and even several music and movie stars who called the town home. In the surrounding countryside many working farms could still be found, adding to the appeal, and the prosperity, of Charlottesville. Tom’s family, being farm owners for many generations, never really considered themselves to be affluent. They had benefitted from the rising and falling property values created by the nearby town, but not everyone in their community had the cleverness to take advantage of it. Tom’s family believed that good friends were something to cherish, regardless of the size of their bank account. His friends ranged from folks who could barely make ends meet to those who lived in pampered luxury, and he was comfortable among all of them.

Tom turned his attention back to the conversation, which had taken a more somber tone. He listened as Guwaya questioned John Carter.

“Is there still a chance that Ross will be able to successfully prevent a forced removal?”

“Of course that is what we are all hoping,” John answered, “but it is looking more doubtful by the day. This letter to the Cherokee from General Scott was being passed around in New Echota, and it has the tone of a final warning.” He handed a copy of the letter to Guwaya who read it aloud, in Cherokee, to his family.

They sat silently for several minutes before Guwaya spoke again. He seemed to be hesitant about saying something to John. At last, he decided to speak. “I have discussed with my family what we would do if the whites insist on enforcing this removal. This land is all we have. You well know that it was given to us, our ancestors, by the Creator, and no one should be able to take it from us. We should not be expected to trade it for other land in some place we have never seen.”

John Carter looked at his friend with concern. “I agree with you, Guwaya, as do many others. But if the whites are adamant to force us to leave, we have little option but to comply. It would be suicide to forcefully resist, if that is what you are thinking.”

“It would be an honorable thing to give my life defending my land,” Guwaya responded with pride. “But no, I will not sacrifice the lives of my family. I will do the next best thing.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Which is?”

“We will go into hiding.”

Chapter twenty-eight

T
he Deerinwater farm was situated in a small valley, between the hills that bordered a bend in the Oostanaula River. Jimmy Deerinwater pointed out the boundaries of the land he was entitled to farm as he and Adam walked along the lane. His farm was smaller than Benjamin’s, although it was still large enough to provide a living for them. Running the farm with just the two of them was a challenge, and it was going to be more challenging for Jimmy shortly. Now that Rebecca was expecting, he told Adam, she would not be helping him with the farm chores as much. Jimmy said he didn’t mind the extra work for a while in order to get his family started. He was looking forward to beginning a family, and the excitement of their first child showed in his eyes when he spoke.

As they walked along, Jimmy pointed out that he had chosen different crops than Benjamin Rogers. He had some peaches, but the majority of his orchards were planted with apple trees. Like the other farms, he had a small field of tobacco, and another of cotton. Jimmy explained that cotton would be his cash crop of choice, but the cotton they grew was mostly for their own use. Cotton was a very labor intensive crop, and they could not afford the additional labor costs.

“I prefer to make my investments into technology, rather than slaves,” Jimmy said. “Not that I could afford a slave. Most folks can’t. I did invest in a cotton gin, as Benjamin mentioned. I don’t really grow enough to justify the machine, but I think there might be an opportunity to offer the service to the other farmers. I’d like to be able to reduce my dependency on how well the crop does, which can be unpredictable, and have a more secure income from offering an agricultural service. I would still be somewhat dependent on the bounty of the crops, but not so much that a single bad year could wipe me out.”

Jimmy showed Adam his second largest crop—peanuts. He explained that both peanuts and tobacco were labor intensive. He felt that the developing technology would soon offer ways to reduce that labor, giving him other agricultural service possibilities. He had heard that someone had invented a corn planting machine, and told Adam he didn’t think it would be long before someone came up with machines for planting other crops as well.