The Mandie Collection (42 page)

“Well, yes. I'm alone,” she admitted reluctantly, knowing her cousin would be suspicious of that.

“Oh, so your mother does not know you are here,” he said. “Go back to your white people. That is where you belong.” Whipping the horses, he sped off down the road.

As Mandie stared after him, her eyes filled with tears. Why was Tsa'ni always so mean to her? After all, he was blood kin—actually her second cousin.

Mandie hugged Snowball and flopped down on the sand. She sighed deeply. “Well, Snowball, we can't afford to waste time just sitting here,” she said. “Let's eat a bite while we're stopped. Then we've got to keep going.”

Snowball washed himself while Mandie opened the flour sack and took out the remaining bread and cheese. Saving a little bit for later and sharing some with Snowball, she ate hurriedly, then walked on again. They still had a long way to go before they reached Uncle Wirt's house.

Refreshed from wading in the river, Mandie started out quickly, but soon weariness set in again. As the day wore on, her weary steps grew slower and slower. She had to stop and rest more often.

In open areas, the sun was scorching hot. Mandie found herself hurrying through the clearings and taking her time through the cool, dark woods.

Then as she came over the crest of a steep, wooded mountain, she stopped, paralyzed with fear. There, right in front of her, stood a huge bear.

“Oh, no!” Mandie gasped. Her heart beat wildly.

Snowball dug his claws into her shoulder.

Startled, the bear reared and stood on his hind feet. Mandie held her breath. Those beady little eyes threatened.

Hardly able to form the words, Mandie once again repeated her silent prayer, “What time I am afraid I will put my trust in thee.”

Snowball arched his back and hissed.

The huge bear growled and started toward them.

He's about to attack
! Mandie panicked.
I've got to distract him somehow
! she thought. Then she remembered the bread and cheese. Fumbling desperately with the flour sack, she found the remaining food and tossed it as hard as she could, just off the path by the bear.

Watching it land, the huge animal ambled over to investigate.

Mandie raced past him, clutching Snowball tightly as she hurried down the mountainside. In fear and exhaustion, she stumbled along. Her feet slid on rocks, her hair caught in branches and limbs, and briars snagged her clothes. But she couldn't stop. She had to get as far away from that bear as possible.

Snowball protested loudly at the jarring ride and dug his claws into her again.

As Mandie neared the bottom of the mountain, her feet slipped on a moss-covered rock, and she slid the rest of the way, scraping her legs and elbows. Snowball jumped free. And Mandie, skidding and tumbling the last few feet, tried to brace herself, but she landed squarely in front of a wagon traveling on the road below.

“Whoa!” the driver shouted.

The two horses reared up as the driver brought the wagon to a sudden stop a few inches from where Mandie lay.

Mandie couldn't move. The driver jumped down from the wagon and ran to her side. She couldn't say anything.

The man bent over her with concern. “Are you all right, young lady?” he asked, breathing hard. “Are you hurt badly?”

Mandie detected a strange accent. She tried to smile as the man offered to help her up. Still clutching her flour sack, she got weakly to her feet.

“I . . . I'm all right,” she finally managed to say, breathing a silent word of thanks to God. Mandie studied the man curiously. He looked young but was dressed in a well-worn black suit and hat. Out here in the country, not many men wore suits except to church, and this wasn't Sunday.

The man brushed some leaves and grass from Mandie's back as Snowball rubbed around her ankles. “Do you live around here? Could I give you a ride home, perhaps?” he offered.

“No,” Mandie answered hesitantly. “You see I'm on my way to my great-uncle's house at Bird-town.”

The stranger's bright blue eyes stared at her. He seemed to be trying to figure out what was going on. Curly red hair showed beneath his black hat. “That is quite a ways from here,” he said. “However, I'm going in that direction. Could I give you a ride?”

“But I don't know you,” Mandie said slowly. She stared at the man, whose blue eyes and red hair reminded her of her beloved father.

“Oh, I'm sorry, young lady,” the man apologized. “I should introduce myself. I'm Riley O'Neal from Boston, and I have come south to minister to the heathen Indians, and—”

Mandie put her hands on her hips. “The Indians are not heathens,” she protested. “I happen to be one-fourth Cherokee myself.” She drew herself up tall.

“Oh, dear. I didn't mean to offend you,” Riley O'Neal replied. “I have never been south before, but our church in Boston is under the impression that there are quite a few Indians here who know nothing about Christianity. I have been sent as a missionary to set up a school for them.”

Mandie looked at him suspiciously. “I don't think they need your school,” she said. “They already have their own churches and Sunday schools.”

“But we are planning to set up what you might call a ‘reading, writing, and arithmetic school,' ” he explained. “And we can teach them about God at the same time.”

“The ones who want to can go to the white schools,” Mandie argued. “Most of them aren't interested in that kind of education. They have their own language and customs.”

“But as I understand it, they have to travel quite a distance to the ‘white schools,' as you call them. We would like to build a school right in the Cherokee village.”

Mandie wasn't sure what to say about that.

The man went on. “It's getting late,” he said. “Why don't you get in the wagon, and I'll take you to your uncle's house. Then I can tell you all about our schools on the way.”

Mandie hesitated. How could she be sure this man really was a missionary? She had always been taught that it could be dangerous to go off with strangers. Silently she asked God to make the decision for her. Should she trudge on by foot or should she accept the ride? She was terribly worn out and she ached from her fall.

The man saw her hesitation. “Just a minute,” he said. Hurrying back to the wagon, he reached inside a valise and pulled out a sheaf of papers to show her.

“This is my identification,” he said, showing her several certificates and official-looking documents with his name on them. “I'm glad to see that you have good sense about becoming involved with strangers.”

As he unfolded one large paper and held it out, he said, “This is my commission from my church to start the school. Here are my name and address.” Mandie noticed the paper read
Reverend
Riley O'Neal. He looked young to be a preacher. Then rummaging through the untidy stack of papers, he produced a picture. “And see? This is a tintype of myself and the members of my church back in Boston.”

Mandie nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “I believe you are who you say you are.” Then with a little laugh, she added, “In fact, you'd better be because all the Cherokees in these mountains would come to my rescue if anything happened to me.”

The missionary folded the papers. “Yes, they are your relatives, aren't they?” he replied with a smile.

“I'm sorry for my harsh words before,” Mandie apologized. “Please forgive me. I guess I'm not very grateful for a ride, am I? I'm just
awfully tired and hungry. So is Snowball.” She picked up her pet and stroked his fur.

The missionary looked down at the white kitten. “Oh, I was so worried about you that I didn't even notice your cat,” he said with a little laugh. “Well, let's get the two of you to your uncle's house, then.”

Mandie followed the man to the wagon, and he helped her up on the seat.

Jumping up beside her, the missionary returned the papers to the valise and urged the horses on. He glanced at her dirty, torn dress and the tangled blond hair escaping from its long braid. “You must have come a long way then,” he said.

“I have,” she agreed. But she hoped he wouldn't pursue the matter. He was asking dangerous questions, and she didn't want him to know the truth about her journey.

“Where do you live, Miss . . . ah . . . I don't believe you told me your name,” he said with a smile.

“Amanda Shaw,” she replied, suddenly wishing she had made up a name. “I'm going to live with my Uncle Wirt.”

“Is he Cherokee?” the missionary asked.

“Oh, yes. Uncle Wirt is a full-blooded Cherokee,” Mandie answered proudly. “You see, my grandmother was his sister.” Mandie tried to change the subject. “Tell me about the school you plan to begin,” she said, rubbing Snowball's fur. “Will it be on the Cherokee reservation?”

“That depends on a lot of things,” the missionary replied. “I understand there are many Cherokees who don't live on the reservation.”

“Yes, lots of them live at Deep Creek. That's where my father's friend, Uncle Ned, lives,” Mandie explained.

The wagon suddenly lurched on the rough road. “Does your father live there also?” the man asked.

“My father is . . . is not living anymore,” Mandie said, unable to bring herself to say the word
dead
.

“The Lord rest his soul,” the missionary said. “I'm sorry. I seem to be saying all the wrong things.” After a few moments he continued. “I suppose you know all the Cherokee Indians in these mountains, am I correct?”

“Goodness no!” she exclaimed. “There are hundreds of Cherokees, probably thousands. Besides, I only found out last year that I'm part
Cherokee. And my mother sent me off to Asheville to a girls' school right after that, so I haven't had much time to meet all my Indian relatives.” Again, she wished she wouldn't talk so much. She was giving away too much personal information.

“So your mother is still living, then, is that right?”

“Well, yes, she's living, but I'm going to live with my great-uncle, at least for the summer.” She fidgeted with the flour sack by her side.

Riley O'Neal looked at her again. “Uh-huh,” he said.

The way he said it, Mandie was sure he had figured out that she was running away from home.
Oh, so what
? she finally decided.
There's nothing he can do about it
.

The young missionary cleared his throat. “I'm glad you'll be living with the Indians,” he told her with a smile. “You seem to be well educated. Perhaps you could help me get the school started.”

Mandie frowned. “I don't know about that. I'm already having a hospital built for them—actually there are workmen doing the construction. I'm just furnishing the gold to pay for it.”

The man looked at her in disbelief.

“You see, my friends and I found a pile of gold in an old cave a while back,” she explained. “And that's the gold that's paying for the hospital.”

“You found real gold in a cave?”

Mandie explained how they had discovered the gold and her idea about building a hospital when the Cherokees refused to claim the gold.

“That is a wonderful thing to be doing for the Indians,” the missionary said. “The Lord will bless you for that.”

As they talked on, Mandie finally caught sight of a cluster of Cherokee log cabins down the road. “Look!” She pointed. “We're not far from Uncle Wirt's house now.”

Then all of a sudden she began to worry. How was she going to explain why she was here?

Riley O'Neal looked around at the neat cornfields and the rows of log cabins. “So this is Bird-town,” he said, driving slowly on.

“Yes. My Uncle Wirt lives on down a ways,” Mandie replied. “I'll show you.”

As dusk settled over the little village, the aroma of food cooking filled the air. Mandie's stomach growled, and Snowball sat up in her
lap and sniffed. Several Indians were walking around in their yard and along the road. Mandie guessed that they had probably already eaten their evening meal.

“Here.” She pointed quickly to the largest house in the center of the community. “Uncle Wirt lives here. He—” She stopped short as she noticed Tsa'ni jump into a wagon by Uncle Wirt's front door. She scowled. How could he have been so mean as to lie about where he was going?

The missionary pulled his wagon into the yard just as Tsa'ni drove by on Mandie's side. Her cousin eyed her companion curiously.

“You told me you weren't coming to Bird-town,” Mandie yelled at him.

“I changed my mind,” the Indian boy replied. Whipping the horses, he raced off down the road.

“He lied,” Mandie mumbled to herself.

The missionary pulled the horses to a stop near the big cabin. “He told a lie? Is that what you said?”

“Yes,” Mandie said angrily, preparing to jump down from the wagon. Then she turned around and quickly explained what had happened at the Tuskasegee River.

“Your cousin is one of those people we'd like to help with our ministry,” Riley O'Neal replied. He jumped down from the wagon and walked around to help Mandie.

But Mandie was too quick for him. She had already stepped down. No matter how much the Misses Heathwood's School for Girls tried to teach her about being ladylike, she was used to doing things for herself.

“Thank you, Mr. O'Neal, for giving me a ride,” she said, smiling up into the missionary's pleasant face. Mandie expected him to get back into the wagon and drive off, but he just stood there. Suddenly she realized that he intended to go in and meet her relatives. She fidgeted with her flour sack nervously.

Mandie knew her Uncle Wirt and his family were members of a Christian church, and she was not sure as to how they might react to this young fellow coming in and trying to start something new. Besides, she didn't really want him around when she told her relatives why she had come. It was going to be hard enough as it was.