Her Cherokee Groom. Valerie Hansen
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“I pray you are right.” Charles laughed and tousled the boy’s dark hair.
“Where did you leave your horse?”
“I tied him out behind. It’s a lot easier to hide myself than a full grown mount.” He eyed the basket. “The servants didn’t suspect anything?”
“No. Lucy has been the family cook for longer than I can remember and nobody else saw me leaving.”
“Good. Where shall we set the food?”
“I brought a cloth and swept the ground a little while I was waiting for you,” Annabelle said. “There is a lovely place over there beneath the honeysuckle.”
“Perfect.” Charles helped her lay the cloth, then recruited the boy to keep watch for a bit, just in case.
Johnny pouted. “I’m hungry.”
“We will call you when it’s time to eat. I know Miss Annabelle will not let you starve.”
As soon as the child walked away she began to speak quietly to Charles. “I tried to listen in as John was discussing Indian affairs with Margaret this morning but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to learn anything new. It is clear the president and his cabinet do not value treaties. Especially not since gold has been discovered in Georgia.”
“We have known about the gold for many generations. It is unfortunate that word has gotten out,” Charles said.
“Is that why the powers that be want the Cherokees to move west?”
He nodded. “That, and coveting the land. It’s not just us. Have you ever heard of the Five Civilized Tribes? We are the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole.”
“I think so. It seems unfair to expect you to uproot and leave the farms that you have worked for so many generations.”
He managed a smile for her benefit even though his heart was hardened. “It is more than unfair. It is criminal. And unless we can solve our tribal differences and learn to work and stand together, we will lose.”
Turning her sky-blue eyes to him and growing somber, she offered, “Sadly, I believe the same can be said of you and me, Mr. McDonald.”
* * *
Spreading her skirts gracefully, Annabelle settled at the edge of the cloth and began to take food from the basket. There was fresh bread and cold meat and Lucy’s delicious sweet pickles, plus part of a pound cake for dessert. A clay jug held lemonade which she poured into small tin cups.
Yet she hardly tasted the meal. Ideas kept whirling through her mind and being rejected by the logical side of her personality. She felt she would burst if she did not share her concerns, so the moment Johnny finished stuffing himself and resumed his guard post she opened a fresh conversation. “I need to ask you a question.”
“Fine.” Charles was seated with his back against a poplar trunk and looked far more relaxed than she felt.
“You wanted to know about my dreams? Well, I have given that a lot of thought and I know what I want.”
He sat forward, legs crossed, and studied her. “Go ahead.”
“I want to find my family, whatever is left of it. I have no idea where to start or how to proceed but I think, if I could just learn who I am and where I come from, I’d be happy.”
“Even if the story is a sad one?”
“Yes. Even then.”
She could tell he was weighing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke. “What if there is Indian blood in your line? How will you feel then?”
“Oh!” Taking a moment to think it over, Annabelle said, “Probably the same way you felt when you were old enough to realize your last name came from a Scot.” She began to smile at him. “We are what we are. God made us in His image. Who are we to complain?”
“Nevertheless, it will change the way you are viewed and accepted. It will make you someone else.”
She disagreed. “No. It will change nothing other than the perceptions of others. I will still be Annabelle Lang. I will still be a foundling without roots or history. If you could choose, which would you prefer, knowing the truth or wondering for the rest of your life?”
Charles stood, approached and offered a hand to help her up. “I would take you to Tennessee tomorrow if not for the damage it would do to your reputation. You would not only be branded a loose woman, everyone would think we were running away because we killed that man.”
“I know. I haven’t worked out any details yet.” She glanced in the direction the boy had gone. “Or decided what we should do about him.” Lowering her voice further she added, “We can’t leave him behind.”
The lack of a definitive reply from her companion bothered her so much she said, “I am far more worried about Johnny than I am about myself.”
Charles bent to help her gather their leftovers and put them back into the basket. “Then you must understand why my concern is more for the both of you than for my personal safety.”
It did not surprise her to hear him add, “That is why I stayed in Washington.”
At that moment she knew she should try to dissuade him, to make him leave for his own sake. Instead, she disappointed herself by remaining silent.
They refreshed themselves with the clean water from a pump used to refill the horse troughs, then prepared to part. It was not an easy parting. “I think you and the boy should go back to the house and act as normal as possible,” Charles said firmly.
“But...”
He shushed her. “Hear me out. While you’re there you will be in a perfect position to glean information that may help my people. I’ll continue to pose as a gentleman and listen to rumors as I move around town.”
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